There and Not Quite Back Again
by Nimtheriel
Summary: Syri Farseer has made it through the Rider War with all of her goals completed. Now, she just wants to return to Earth, but when she is chosen by a dragon egg, she knows there is no going back. In an attempt to get to Earth to explain this all to her family, she suddenly finds herself swept up with Thorin & Co. Yes, magic and swordplay. Yes, Kili X OC.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the **__**Inheritance Cycle**__** or any of its characters (duh).**_

_**About the rating: K+ except for some battle scenes. I did not want to rate it T because there isn't any particularly strong language or adult themes.**_

* * *

I was quiet, staring up at the enormous pines that made up the forest around us.

Neither of us said anything. We didn't need to.

"Promise you'll visit?" Eragon asked at last.

"Of course, you nimrod! Just...um...how _will_ we contact each other, anyways?" I said. I hadn't really thought about this. Alagaësia wasn't the sort of place you could send mail to, not from Earth.

"I think Arya and Oromis put something together...they called it 'Sending Stones'."

"Sounds promising," I said, trying for both our benefits to smile. It probably looked more like a grimace, but it's the thought that counts, right?

"How's Brom doing?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

Eragon sighed. "Better and better. Blödhgarm says that he should regain full use of his arm in time."

"And what will he be doing now that Galbatorix is dead? That was pretty much his life..."

"As it was mine," Eragon admitted. "He said he would come with me to look after the dragon eggs, even when I told him there would likely be no return."

"Geez, Eragon! You're setting way too much in store by the prophecy!" I scolded him. We had breached this topic before, but he still seemed determined that it was his destiny to never see his friends again. "I mean, it could very well mean that you leave Alagaësia, then return, then leave, then return, etc. Then, you leave and die, thus completing the prophecy. Or it could just mean that at some point in the future, you will die. That's a type of leaving."

Eragon just gave me a blank look.

"Fine. Have it your way. I _still_ highly recommend Vroengard as your Rider HQ, though."

"But those people with the lanterns-"

"You don't even know if they _are_ people! They could be an illusion! They could be anthropomorphic frogs with glowing butts! Talk to them! Ask if it's alright to rebuild the city and introduce dragons to the ecosystem! Offer to get rid of the burrow grubs in return for half of the island! Do _something_ besides going off into the blue and leaving Arya and Murtagh and everyone you care about behind!" My voice softened. "You're already going to lose me, Eragon. Don't lose everyone else, too."

He was silent for a moment, gazing around us at the towering trees of Du Weldenvarden. "I'll talk to Brom and Oromis about it."

"Good," I growled. "Now, then. We were having a pleasant talk about something...?"

"Have you seen Murtagh recently?"

"Hmm. A much better topic of conversation. Yes, I have, in fact. He's still gushing over his new dragon, Thorn."

"You managed to wring more out of him than I, that's for certain. I asked him if he needed me to heal his broken arm and he merely grunted and went back to feeding his dragon. You actually got a name out of him."

"That's because Murtagh always liked me best," I purred.

Eragon laughed. "If he wasn't starry-eyed over Nasuada, I'm sure you'd have him wrapped around your little finger by now."

"Ah, if only. Instead, I got you," I sighed playfully.

"Wha-Me?! I'm not-"

"Ha! It's okay, I know you're still composing poetry for Arya at night."

"How did you-"

"It's amazing what you can learn when you're friends with Saphira," I said cheerfully.

"She-" Eragon's pointy ears were turning red. "She _told you_?!"

I burst out laughing. "No, she told Brom who told Blödhgarm who told Arya who told me."

"They-I'll murder them all! I'll be the first person to create a spell that successfully raises the dead, then murder them again! That was _private_!"

"I thought it was quite good," I said seriously. "I think you should finish the one with the sparrows and then send it to her after you've been away for a few weeks. She'll cave right in and throw herself all over you. Mind, she'll have already heard it from Blödhgarm, so..." It was very amusing to watch Eragon's face change colors so quickly.

"A pox on all elves and storytellers!" he cried. "Excuse me, I need to have a word with my father. And Saphira. And Blödhgarm. And then die."

"Have fun!" I called after him. I laughed, then continued my walk back to Ellesméra.

* * *

"You will come help us move the dragon eggs and Eldunarí?" asked Arya that night.

I could tell that it was more of a command than a question, but I nodded. "Wouldn't miss it for anything." I could easily forgive Arya. She was so stressed all the time now, what with a country to rebuild and another to rule and get straightened out after a war.

I didn't want to leave. I missed my family and friends back on Earth, but it was unbearable to think that I'd never see these people again. The portal spell that Eragon and Oromis had been working on was finished at last, and anytime I wanted to leave, I could just ask. It took very large quantities of energy, but with the Eldunarí, it shouldn't be a problem.

Shouldn't be.

My problem was different: I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay with Eragon and Arya and Murtagh and Brom and Nasuada and Angela and Solembum and Saphira and Glaedr and Thorn and Fírnen in a world of magic and swords and dragons. I wanted to stay and badger Eragon about setting up a two-way permanent portal between Vroengard (still think he should go there) and Du Weldenvarden. I wanted to help raise dragons and maybe...maybe maybe maybe _maybe_ become a Dragon Rider. It would be an infinitely better life than going to a boring mortal school and learning about geometry and other things that are completely useless when you're stranded in the middle of a forest. Oh, sure, they'll say things like _you'll never be dropped into the woods with no survival gear! Be reasonable!_ DON'T BELIEVE THEM! It happened to me.

I was sitting in bed, reading _Eragon_.

Then I wasn't. I was lying on my stomach in a crater _in a forest_ in a mountain range in Alagaësia in another universe. With my iPad (for some reason), which I had been using to read _Eragon_ before I fell into this crazy world. Then things got complicated, and before I knew it, I was entangled in the _Inheritance Cycle_ plot, changing things left, right, and center because I figured, WTH not? Murtagh gets a crappy destiny and everyone hates him except like three people. Brom dies. Oromis dies. Glaedr dies (sorta...). Elva is cursed with a horrible "blessing" forever. And Eragon, Saphira, Blödhgarm, and a few others leave Alagaësia and never return. NO ONE GETS A HAPPY ENDING! I fixed that...well, most of it. I nearly killed us all when I saved Murtagh from being captured, and Ajihad still died, just in a later battle. But that's all another story, for another time.

Where was I again? Oh, yes, the feast.

I thought of it as a feast, although the elves considered it a typical supper after a good day's work. It was outdoors, and the weather was perfect. Warm, no bugs, with every single star and their grandmother twinkling down at us. Long, fancy tables of a sort that you usually picture in great halls of kings and queens. These were laden with dishes of every shape, size, color, smell, and taste know to man, elf, dwarf, Urgal, dragon, Ra'zac, Shade, spirit, and who knows what else. And yet, no meat.

There was also faelnirv aplenty for everyone, even the four dragons present. Oromis was concerned that Saphira was becoming an alcoholic, but Eragon (now with several drinks in him) said that she was fine and well and could eat...what were they talking about?

I politely declined all faelnirv passed to me after the first glass.

Murtagh had somehow been pulled out of the shadows of his room at Tialdarí Hall and was talking to Brom about something, the watchful Thorn perched in his shoulder. It made me glow with happiness to see Thorn being raised properly in this alternate world.

I pulled my attention back to Arya. "What did you and Oromis make that has Eragon all excited?"

"Sending Stones. They are simple slates with two unique properties: what is written on one will be written on the other, and they both shake slightly when new symbols are added."

I laughed. "Brilliant! It's just like sending a text!"

Arya was puzzled. "Is this something from your world?"

"Yes. Suffice to say that it is a very similar idea. Will the spell hold if one stone is in another world?"

"It will. Oromis showed me the portal spell he and Eragon designed, and the enchantments should remain no matter what is put between the slates."

"That can't have been easy."

"It was not. Oromis and I drew most of our research from the link between dragon and Eldunarí."

"One slate coughed up a-? Never mind."

Arya smiled and served herself another glass of faelnirv. I picked out a dragon spun from sugar and cream. I studied it, decided I would feel guilty eating it, and reached across the table to offer it to Thorn. The tiny dragon sniffed it, sneezed, and snapped up the figure with a chirp of pleasure.

"Watch it," said Murtagh. "He'll eat anything, then regurgitate whatever his stomach disagrees with on my rug at night."

"Oh? What did _you_ feed him?"

He stroked Thorn's chest and said, "Now, keep in mind, the elves didn't have any meat on hand..."

The dragon hiccuped a few sparks, which floated down onto the table and set Arya's napkin ablaze.

"Again? This is the third time tonight!" she snapped, glaring at Thorn. She waved a hand and the fire vanished.

"Sorry. He's been drinking out of your glass all supper. Alcohol does this to him."

Arya pushed her goblet of faelnirv as far away as possible, now glaring at Thorn's Rider.

I made a hasty excuse and retreated farther down the table to where Eragon was describing Sapphira's bone structure to a fascinated elf I'd never seen before. I slid into a vacant seat next to the Rider. "Where's Saph-never mind, I can see Fírnen's gone too."

Eragon smiled somewhat ruefully. "I'm just happy they left the table instead of-"

"Yes, wereallygetthepicturethanks," I said hastily.

The elf, who Eragon introduced as Nathír, began to tell us about his time in Ûru'baen amongst the Varden troops, and in return we told him about what had occurred in Galbatorix's throne room. Brom joined us when the conversation turned to Vroengard and the old Riders. As the meal wore on, I started saying less, hearing less, thinking about how soon I would be leaving. As I mentioned before, I didn't want to. If it weren't for my friends, family, and the internet, I would leave all of the technology and advancement of Earth behind for Alagaësia.

Except.

There was my family to consider. And all the friends I had. All of them must think that I had left them forever. It had been a year now. They probably thought I was dead. Unless, of course, one of those stupid "And no time had passed on Earth!" things happened-or worse, "It had all been a dream." Those terrible endings were just behind "They all died the end" in Syri's Book of Awful Story Endings.

I smiled as I recalled how the name Syri came about.

_"No," I whispered, uncertain. "I...this..." I whipped my head around to stare desperately at the boy with the drawn bow. He was nervous. Scared of me, most likely. "What's your name?" I asked him, dreading the answer. "Is it...Eragon?"_

_He shifted uncomfortably, raising the bow an inch higher. "How do you know my name?"_

_My mind was reeling too fast, too much, to answer. I could not possibly be in Alagaësia, despite the crater, the forest, the blue egg, and the boy named Eragon. It just...didn't happen. Then I realized what was going on, and a smile of relief crossed my face._

_"Ah. I'm dreaming, then."_

_Eragon looked at me curiously. "If you are dreaming, then we are having the same dream. But I do not think we are...I have never had a dream so real before." He hesitated, then lowered the bow, keeping the arrow knocked. "And what is your name?"_

_I bit my lip. "Sarah" seemed slightly out of place with this fantasy dream. I glanced down, surprised to find myself still holding my iPad. What a strange dream. My mouth blurted out "Syri," like that voice thing on my tablet, just with the "i" switched to a "y". I didn't mean for that to come out, it just happened._

_Too late to change it. The name stuck._

And now, no one here had ever heard the name Sarah. I'd almost forgotten it myself, after hearing Syri directed at me so many times...a laughing protest as I made a joke at someone's expense..a cry of fear as I fell to the muddy ground, a knife in my back...introductions to some of the most powerful people in this world...It was hard to let the name go. It had become part of me, and in some weird way, I had become a part of it.

Plus, you know, whenever someone says, "Syri, where's the nearest town?" or whatever, I burst out laughing.


	2. Chapter 2

"Got time to spar?" I asked Eragon, knowing Arya certainly didn't. He was sitting at the base of his tree house, looking at reports from around the Empire that Nasuada had sent him. Saphira dozed in the shade nearby.

He looked up from the pile of parchment he was sifting through. "I could make some time. Sword or...?"

"You could use Brisingr and I could use Dauthhljödhr," I said hopefully.

Eragon groaned. "I don't see why you couldn't have just kept learning the sword. It's a wonderful weapon, full of rich history."

I pouted. "So is a glaive," I said. "You're just jealous because Dauthhljödhr can reach way farther than a sword and is more awes-I mean, elven."

"Since when is a glorified spear more 'elven' than Brisi-than my sword?"

Saphira opened one eye and raised her head.

"It _looks_ elven!"

"It looks like those dwarven blade staves!"

I sighed. Eragon just couldn't accept that someone's weapon was better than his. "Whatever. Are we sparring or are you chickening out because you know I have the superior equipment?"

"Chickening? Is that a word?"

I sometimes get tired of people in this world not understanding me. "Are you coming or not?"

He tilted his head and was silent for a moment, probably listening to something Saphira was saying. "Oh, fine. I'll meet you in our usual spot in ten minutes."

To be honest, Eragon is not the ideal sparring partner for me. He uses a sword while I use a glaive, which often causes our sparring matches to be over fast, usually with him as the victor. Normally I would ask Arya, who is quite decent with a glaive, but she now has the duty of queenship, plus the added responsibilities of being a Rider. It made me sad to think that this might be my last sparring match ever. I would have probably no chance of practicing on Earth, and I was skeptical that I would get frequent-if any-visits to Alagaësia. I was going to miss this place so much. I stilled debated the possibility of not leaving. Everyone on Earth already probably thought I was dead.

I wandered down the paths of Ellesméra until I found the large clearing where elves practiced swordsmanship, archery, and whatever other weapons they wished to use. Eragon, Brom, Arya, and occasionally Murtagh all know where to meet me if they want to spar. Near the archery range, there's a patch of grass by the edge of the clearing that no one seems to use. Today, there were only a dozen elves using swords and spears and a handful with bows.

I dropped down onto the ground and sat cross-legged in my usual spot, waiting for Eragon and watching the duels taking place on the other side of the clearing.

In a few minutes I could see him, making his way across the field and stopping every now and then to greet an elf. He stopped a yard from me. "Ready?"

"Yes, I'm sitting on the ground, which is usually an indicator of combat readiness," I answered, rising to my feet. Eragon drew Brisingr (which I had convinced him to get made during his second visit to Ellesméra, saying that Murtagh had a claim on Zar'roc already) and I reached over my shoulder to pull out Dauthhljödhr, my glaive. I should explain about it first.

Dauthhljödhr was a gift from Runön my first visit to the elven capital. She and I had become...friends, I suppose, during my time there and she had surprised me with the glaive before I left, knowing that my current weapon was Eragon's hunting knife. The glaive had a dark wooden staff four and a half feet long, tipped in an additional foot and a half of silvery blade, slightly curved. Runön knew that I enjoyed and was better at using a glaive than a sword, and her gift to me was the finest I could ask for. It would never rust, break, or need sharpening, like the Riders' swords, and one of the best things about it was the way I could carry it.

It was a complicated spell. The glaive itself usually rested in a sealed and locked box beneath Tialdarí Hall, but the spell was such that by reaching over my shoulder, the enchantment would activate and the distance between my hand and the glaive would _twist_, making it so I could pull Dauthhljödhr seemingly out of thin air. I loved it. This way, I didn't have to carry my glaive with me everywhere.

Eragon blocked both blade edges with magic, then brought his weapon up into a defensive position. I did the same. We stared at each other for a few seconds, then he lunged at me, whipping Brisingr towards my head. Another problem with sparring with Eragon: he's fast as an elf now, which means it's very hard to counter his movements.

I swept the blade of my glaive up to block his swing, continuing the motion with the other end of the staff, trying to swipe his feet out from underneath him. Eragon jumped aside, feinting with Brisingr and almost catching me across the ribs. I swirled my glaive in a half circle, slicing at the space where his arm was a moment ago, following through with the unbladed end to land a glancing hit on his side. He retaliated in kind and forced me to take a step backwards, then hit me on the shoulder with his sword. I swung, twisted my glaive at the last moment, and managed to wrench Brisingr out of Eragon's grasp. I touched the tip of Dauthhljödhr lightly on his collarbone, then lowered my weapon and waited for him to fetch his sword. I was panting, ecstatic at my victory. That made four wins against him since Agaetí Blödhren, all of which because he couldn't get close enough to me in time. From a distance, I had him as long as I kept my guard up, but Eragon had learned by now that with a glaive, it was difficult for me to defend myself when he was closer.

"Shall we go again?" Eragon asked me.

"Sure," I said, "I need to practice keeping you at a distance."

We both took up a guard stance and began again.

Eragon won the next three matches, but I was improving. By the fourth match, I felt like I could keep pretty much any mortal swordsman at a safe distance with Dauthhljödhr. Eragon, however, was not "any mortal". He had unnatural strength and speed coupled with a complete mastery of the sword. Only Arya and Oromis could defeat him.

I lost the fourth match as well, then declined the invitation for a fifth bout. Eragon was hardly breathing heavily, but I was tiring and we still had to start our journey to Vroengard today.

* * *

I'll spare you the details of our Vroengard trip. Mostly, we rode horses (or flew, depending on who had a dragon) to Narda, where a ship was waiting for us. The company included Eragon, Saphira, Arya (who insisted on coming despite advice to the contrary), Fírnen, Brom, Oromis, Glaedr, Blödhgarm and his company, myself, Thorn, and Murtagh, who wanted to see the Vault of Souls for themselves.

We spent a day and a half on the ship before finally reaching the island. Once we had landed the small boat we used to get ashore, Eragon led us to the Rock of Kuthian. The rest of the company stayed at a respectful distance while he and Saphira whispered their true names to the spire. With a crack and a rumble, the front of the rock split and two enormous doors glided open, revealing a dark staircase down.

Arya got a gleam in her eyes. "Shall we?"

Fírnen snorted and shuffled towards the opening. Glaedr made a rumbling noise and projected his thoughts for all to hear. _I do not think I will fit. I shall remain outside to guard the entrance._

He and Oromis seemed to have a brief mental argument, then the golden dragon's Rider stepped forwards and without a word, everyone filed into the spire after Eragon and Saphira, Glaedr remaining outside.

The steps seemed to go on forever. They were plenty wide enough for the two larger dragons, though the darkness made the walls feel too close. Eight people simultaneously created werelights and one dragon blew a cloud of flame into the air, effectively lighting the passage. We continued on.

And on.

And on.

It seemed like a very, _very_ long time later when we finally emerged into the Vault of Souls.

All elves present gasped in wonder and amazement. I couldn't help but gape at the assembled eggs and Eldunarí, lit by the glow of a magma pocket beneath the round hole in the floor. The reddish light glinted off of the many facets and smooth surfaces around the room. Eragon had described the room to us all many times, but it was nothing compared to what we saw now. It was like being in a room full of enormous precious gems, knowing that they could save a race from extinction.

As the Eldunarí greeted us, occasionally another elf would cry out in joy with a dragon's name, ecstatic that their friend had survived the Fall. I remained silent, looking at the eggs lining the many shelves on the walls. There were hundreds, and somewhere in here there were the twenty-six that Eragon said were to become bonded with a Rider. A pang of envy and sadness stole through me. Perhaps I could work it so I _visited_ Earth often and lived in Alagaësia. Uh-huh. _That_ was going to happen soon.

"Which ones are to be bonded?" I asked anyone who was listening.

_The six-and-twenty eggs on the bottom shelf are Rider-bound,_ an Eldunarí answered. _They were separated from the others so as to avoid confusion._

As the rest of the company spread out around the room, I walked over to the Rider eggs and bent down to examine them. Most were about the size of my head, though many were larger or smaller and one was the size of a microwave oven. There was a teal, a lilac, a fiery orange, a bronze, a pale green, a tiny little red one that I could've held in one hand...

Murtagh crouched next to me, running a hand over a dark blue egg. Thorn was up on the highest shelf, nose-to-nose with a jet black egg bigger than he was. The others had begun to cast enchantments that made the eggs and Eldunarí float in the air. Blödhgarm was already leading a long line of them back up the stairs. Cuaroc, the bronze dragon-headed man, was helping.

I felt something..._stir_ to my right. Second to last in the line of Rider eggs was one a beautiful silvery color. I shifted closer to it, curious. Was the hatchling restless? Could I communicate to a dragonling still in its shell, perhaps?

The light from the magma gave the egg a red-orange glow, but I could tell that the egg was a silver-white color with veins of black twisting across its surface. It was medium in size, about as big as Saphira's egg. Something possessed me to reach out and stroke it as I had seen Murtagh do.

Occasionally, I wonder what would have become of me if I hadn't. If I had ignored the strange impulses I was getting and left the egg alone. But I didn't, and no amount of wondering will change what happened next.

The instant my hand touched the egg's surface, a feeling of pure joy and excitement that was not my own pierced my mind. I felt like I had stuck my finger in an electrical socket. After the first wave of happiness passed, I could feel a smooth plain of complete contentment and surety coming from...the egg? What was...

"Oh!" I shouted out loud, startling everyone. Eragon dropped an Eldunarí on his foot and swore.

Several pairs of eyes turned to me. I could feel the questioning thoughts of several dragons, alive and dead, directed at me. I clapped my hands over my mouth, then slowly drew them away. "I think...I think I have been chosen." I reached out and picked up the silver egg. It was surprisingly light and warm in my hands.

No one said a word. Then Arya approached me. "May I?" she asked, pointing at the egg. I nodded and reluctantly handed it to her.

The elf held my soon-to-be-dragon carefully, as if cradling a baby. She closed her eyes for a moment, then gave the egg back to me. "The egg has chosen its Rider. It will hatch within three weeks time."

I stared at the silver egg. Everyone else did, too. The meaning clicked, finally, in my mind.

"Oh, no..."

I could never raise a dragon on Earth. Never. Once it got too big, there would be no place to keep it. Only in Alagaësia could it be safe. I was never going to be able to explain this to my mom...

But a dragon! _My_ dragon! I realized now why Murtagh had spent so much time alone with Thorn, and my egg hadn't even hatched yet. Cautiously, I stretched out my consciousness and touched the mind of the dragonling. It still was content, sure that I would be a good Rider.

_My dragon._

Someone had taken me by the elbow and was leading me back up the long staircase. I could hardly see anything apart from the egg. A Rider! Me! I was going to be a Rider! Soon, I would have a "partner-of-my-mind-and-soul", as Saphira referred to the relationship. I felt like I had been standing on a mountain all my life and had just now leaped off a cliff.

I would be immortal.

I could finally, _finally_ use magic.

I would eventually get the pointy ears and angular, cat-like features of an elf.

I would stay in Alagaësia.

Now I was back outside, in the sunlight. I looked up from the silver egg. Murtagh, my rescuer, was talking to Brom, Glaedr, and Blödhgarm, explaining what had happened in the Vault of Souls.

Thorn fluttered over to me, still awkward on his wings. He was now larger than a cat and growing fast. I shifted my egg to the crook of one elbow and held out the other arm for him to perch on. The young dragon stretched out his neck and sniffed my egg curiously. Then, for the first time, he spoke to me. _Little-unhatched-egg is happy...be a good Rider-partner-of-the-heart-and-soul._

"I will, Thorn," I assured him. "I will try my hardest."

* * *

**_And another chapter! Don't get too used to the multiple-chapters-per-week gig. I've written these in advance, but soon I'll be caught up._**

**_If you have any questions, comments, suggestions, or snide remarks, feel free to post a comment! Feedback is great. Thank you all for reading!_**


	3. Chapter 3

"Will you still go back to your world?" asked Eragon.

They were all gathered around the table on the pitching ship: Oromis, Brom, Eragon, Arya, Murtagh, Blödhgarm. The rest of the elves were either resting or managing the ship, and all the dragons (except Thorn, who was sleeping by his Rider) were flying alongside the ship. It wasn't big enough for all of them to land on the deck at once; as it was, the vessel dropped several feet lower in the water whenever Glaedr rested his wings.

I started to laugh, picturing a silver dragon hatchling in my mother's kitchen, because the other option was to start crying.

"I don't think so," I said, stopping my laughter before it was replaced by tears. "There won't be enough room anywhere on Earth for me to keep my dragon, and we can both do a lot more good here in Alagaësia."

Eragon tried (and failed) not to smile.

"What will you do, then?" Arya asked.

I stroked the silver egg in my lap. "I think I will go back to Earth and explain what has happened." I would feel so much better if my family at least knew I was alive.

"The portal requires enormous amounts of energy," Oromis began. "It might take us a day or more to regain enough power to cast the reverse spell and bring you back here. In the mean time, what if your egg should hatch?"

I considered this. "Eragon, how long did it take Saphira to hatch?"

"Around two weeks," he said. "But I suspect the hatching time differs from dragon to dragon."

"It does," said Arya. "I cannot be sure of exactly how soon your egg will hatch. It may be twenty days, it may be two."

"Can I take the egg with me through the portal without any ill effects to the hatchling?"

_You could,_ rumbled Glaedr,_ but the young one might become confused and delay the hatching time._

"I think I should go to Earth before the egg hatches," I said. "Otherwise, I could become caught up in training and it might be another year before I have time to go through the portal."

"You should also take into consideration how fast a dragon hatchling grows," said Brom. "It requires much more energy to send a person and a three-week old dragon to another world than it does to send a person and an egg."

"Once the dragon gets old enough, it'll be impossible to send it through portals," Murtagh added.

"I'll just have to go quickly," I said. "How soon can I leave?"

Eragon looked at Oromis. "I should think that as soon as we can get back to the clearing in the Spine where you first arrived, we can activate the spell and send you back to where you were before...whatever brought you here. And then we can contact you with the Sending Stones when we're ready to summon you back."

_If everything goes according to plan,_ Saphira added. _If things follow the pattern they have been, you will end up stuck inside a tree somewhere with no way to contact us._

Well. How cheerfully optimistic.

"Sounds great," I said nervously. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Saphira."

The meeting was adjourned and we all went off to do separate things.

I returned to my small cabin and flopped down on the bed with a sigh, cradling my egg.

_My dragon._

* * *

"The spell works much the same way as the one Arya used to transport Saphira's egg," explained Oromis. "Because we are in the exact spot you wish to go, casting the spell without a focus point-an image of the place-will work just fine and require less energy than sending you somewhere completely different in the other world."

"That made absolutely no sense. Let's do it."

It hadn't taken very long to reach the Spine on dragonback, but it meant that less people could come see me off. I had already said goodbye to Arya, Fírnen, Brom, Murtagh, Thorn, Blödhgarm and his company, and many others. Now it was time to see if the portal spell worked. Eragon had the Belt of Beloth the Wise with him, filled with an enormous amount of energy from the Eldunarí.

I stood in the middle of the crater where Saphira's egg had once rested. Oromis, Glaedr, Eragon, and Saphira were gathered around the edge. A leather bag containing my iPad (now with only 15% charge left), one of the Sending Stones, and the silver dragon egg was slung over my shoulder. I was dressed in an elven tunic and the pair of jeans I had fallen into Alagaësia wearing. I was very nervous.

_Goodbye, Syri,_ Saphira said. _We will see you again soon._

"_Farewell,_" Oromis and Glaedr said, speaking together.

Eragon was silent for a moment. "You'll contact me the moment you're through?"

"Yes. Don't worry, it'll be fine."

They began to chant in the Ancient Language, slowly at first, then faster and faster. I recognized most of what they said, having studied alongside Eragon so I wouldn't be in the dark when talking to elves. I had learned as many spells as I could, on the off chance that I ever became a Rider. Or needed to coach someone through saving my life.

I held my bag tightly. Their words were coming so fast now, I could hardly understand them. I think I heard the word Earth spoken very loudly, then-

I think it was a lightning bolt. I was struck from all directions. My blood fizzed and shivered. I could feel the clearing twisting away, and then quite suddenly, it wasn't there at all.

Here's what I encountered next:

_Sky-green-branches-ow, branches!-Falling-ow-falling-trees?-No branches!-Faaaaalling!-Thwap! Arg!-Ground?_

Blackness.

* * *

_It's been an hour._

_Hey, what's this?_

_Looks like a shiny rock._

_Looks like an egg._

_This slate is writing itself!_

_I think she moved_.

My eyes fluttered open. Trees above me. Many with broken branches. My head throbbed, insisting that I pay attention to it. Groaning, I sat up.

Then I wished I hadn't.

I was surrounded by dwarves, all of them armed with swords, axes, a few bows, and a variety of other weapons. All pointed at me.

I croaked a four-letter word, looking around me. The dwarves did not appear hostile, just suspicious.

"Nal," I tried, which I think means "hail" in Dwarvish. Sort of a greeting.

"Speak a language we can all understand!" demanded one of the dwarves. He stood apart from the others, bearing an air of command and-

It was then that I noticed the two dwarves standing to one side, holding my egg and arguing. Losing my head completely, I screamed, "DON'T TOUCH IT!" and, scrambling to my feet, I lunged through the ring around me and snatched the egg from them.

Cradling it against my body, I went a little hysterical. "Do you have any idea what could have happened if you dropped it?" I was making things up now. "What if it exploded?! Why would you..."

I stopped talking, taking a few deep breaths and trying to calm myself. I was not in my house, that was about as plain as you could get. I was surrounded by a miniature army of dwarves who didn't speak Dwarvish and now thought I was mentally unstable. There was also a dwarf shorter than the rest, barefoot, and with no beard.

What.

A horrible suspicion began to form in my mind. I counted the dwarves. Thirteen, not counting the one with hairy feet. Crap.

"Why, Eragon, why?" I said weakly. "I said Earth, not Middle Earth!"

"Who are you?" demanded the dwarf I was pretty sure was the leader.

I snatched up my bag, checked to make sure everything else was in it, and placed the egg inside. Then I straightened and said, "My name is Syri Farseer, Master Oakenshield." _Farseer_ was the name given to me by Brom after the Battle of Farthen Dur. It certainly had more of a ring to it than Sarah Dunley.

The dwarves frowned and muttered something. "Have we met?" asked Thorin. I couldn't read his face, but I'm guessing he was reacting sort of like Eragon had back in the Spine, over a year ago now.

I did the only thing that came naturally. I shrugged and said "No."

I hesitated. Could I? Should I? I could save Fili and Kili and maybe Thorin as well. Despite my iPad having little remaining charge, I could crutch on _The Hobbit_ and use my skill with a glaive...and soon, the silver egg would hatch. I needed to be with it when it did. How would the dwarves react to a dragonling? Not well, that's for sure. I would talk to Eragon about it. Ah, what the heck. I could always leave later.

"May I accompany you for a little while?" I asked. "I have just now fallen into this world and I am...disorientated."

Thorin frowned. "We are not a spring ramble on our way to Rivendell. We are-"

"On a quest to slay a dragon and reclaim your homeland, yes," I said. Pleased at their stunned, even alarmed expressions, I smiled and said, "They don't call me Farseer for reading people's fortunes in tea leaves, you know. Also, I have other...abilities that might come in handy."

"Oh?" said Thorin skeptically. "And have you been in any battles? Slain any dragons? What weapon do you use, for I see none on you."

Instead of answering any of his questions directly, I reached behind me and pulled out Dauthhljödhr. Ah, so the spell had remained in place. That was good, very good. The dwarves stared.

"Shruikan could have eaten Smaug for a midday snack," I said quietly. "I was not the one to kill him, but I provided the distraction." I reached out with a tendril of thought and touched their minds, giving all fourteen of them the memory of Galbatorix's throne room when Shruikan had revealed himself. He was so large, his wing had passed for a wall and his mouth could have held a house. In the memory, I skipped ahead to the part where Eragon and Murtagh take on Galbatorix while Saphira and I distract Shruikan.

_I dart in close and begin to hack at his foot, claws like trees towering above me. Saphira breathes fire into the monstrous dragon's face, blinding him as he tries to crush me. The fire clears and too late, Shruikan sees Arya, held aloft by her own spell, lunging towards him, dauthdaert poised._

_The world is shattered by the dragon's roar as the glowing green lance is buried in Shruikan's enormous eye. Saphira and I raced clear as the dragon falls..._

The memory ended.

No one said anything for a good deal of time. Finally, one of the unidentified dwarves said, "That place was not of Middle Earth."

I shook my head. "It would take a long time to explain." I looked hopefully at Thorin. "So can I come?"

"How are we to know you are trustworthy?" he asked.

I had no good answer, so I shrugged and, switching to the Ancient Language, said, "I am not in the habit of killing people when they are asleep, nor do I wish to harm any of you. I have seen your fates and want to improve them, nothing more." Seeing their confused expressions, I added in Common, "I have no reason to harm you. I probably am not trustworthy, but I'm also very helpful. Mostly." That's me, Queen of First Impressions. That almost beat my first meeting with Murtagh when I was held at sword-point while he demanded to know how I knew his name.

"You hardly make a convincing case," said Thorin. "But Gandalf will know what to do. You may accompany us until he comes back."

"Where _is_ Gandalf?" asked Bilbo.

"I do not know," Thorin said. "And it looks like rain. Just when a wizard would come in handy."

"Actually, I doubt anyone could stop it from raining," I said thoughtfully. "That would take an enormous amount of energy, more than all the Eldu-well, it would be very hard." I looked at all the blank expressions. "Well, maybe magic works differently in this world," I offered.

"That is twice now you have referred to Middle Earth as 'this world'," a dwarf with long black hair pointed out. He was very young compared to some of the others. Fili or Kili, perhaps? He reminded me somewhat of Murtagh, mostly because of the hair and the bow he had resting in a quiver on his back. Older than Murtagh, though. Maybe 20 or so? Quite young.

"Yes, indeed. I am not from this world. I came from a land called 'Earth', and was transported here by mistake."

Again with the raised eyebrows.

"I can explain later." Hastily changing the subject, I said, "I don't know many names among you, so perhaps-"

"My apologies," said Thorin with a slight bow of the head. "My companions are Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Balin, Dwalin, Fili, Kili, and Bilbo Baggins, our burglar. I myself am Thorin Oakenshield, though I suppose you knew that already." At each name, he gestured to the individual, who nodded or bowed.

Ah, so Kili was the dwarf with the bow. His brother, Fili, looked quite different with lighter hair and a longer beard.

After introductions, I was offered a pony but declined, as I was far too tall to ride one without looking ridiculous. Fortunately, the company walked their steeds for the most part and I was able to keep up at a brisk walk. As Thorin predicted, it soon began to rain.

I was so glad my bag was leather instead of cloth. I absolutely couldn't afford to lose my iPad.

Speaking of tablets...I reached down and drew out my Sending Stone, which was vibrating like mad. I felt very, very guilty. In all the excitement, I had forgotten to contact Eragon.

Bending over the slate to keep the rain from washing away the chalk, I read:

**_So did you make it through?_**

**_Syri? Is this working?_**

**_Hello?_**

**_Syri, write something!_**

**_Are you okay? It's been several minutes!_**

**_Hello?_**

**_Syri, answer me!_**

**_You still haven't responded! It's been an hour now!_**

**_Oromis says you might have encountered some time flow difficulties. He said I shouldn't panic. I'm panicking anyways._**

**_Syri, at least put a splotch down so I know you're there!_**

**_It's been two hours now! Where are you?_**

**_Okay, is anyone reading this slate? Just write on it and I'll see it. Is there anyone there?_**

**_How about now?_**

**_Come on, Syri! Arya says the spell is working fine!_**

**_Where are you?_**

The slate shook slightly in my hands as new words wrote themselves across the flat surface.

**_Some of the chalk just washed away; does that mean someone's reading this?_**

I fished around in my leather bag and came up with a broken piece of chalk. Glancing around to make sure I wasn't falling behind, I wrote:

_Eragon, I'm here now. Sorry about the smearing. It's raining here._

There was hardly a second's pause before Eragon's handwriting spidered its way hastily across the slate.

**_Syri! Thank the gods! Where were you? Why didn't you answer?_**

_Eragon, you may want to try using all capital letters and more exclamation points if you're trying to sound angry. Just a tip._

_**Oh, like this? SYRI! THANK THE GODS! WHERE WERE YOU?! WHY DIDN'T YOU ANSWER?!**_

_Yeah, see now you've got it. We'll get you used to texting in no time._

**_Okay. SYRI! THANK THE GODS! WHERE WERE YOU?! WHY DIDN'T YOU ANSWER?!_**

_It's a long story, okay? The portal didn't send me to Earth, it sent me to Middle Earth and because we were on a mountain when you guys cast the spell_

**_Oh no. You fell? Are you alright?_**

_If I wasn't, would I be writing this?_

**_Maybe. I'm not sure. You could probably write with broken legs and a tree branch through your stomach._**

_Listen, I fell into another book. It's called __The Hobbit__ and it's about a bunch of dwarves and a hobbit who go on a quest to slay a dragon and_

**_SLAY A DRAGON?! WHAT DID THE DRAGON_**

_Stop cutting me off! Yes, it's a...sorta insane dragon, I guess. His name is Smaug and he killed a whole bunch of people just because he thought the dwarves' treasury was shiny. I don't know much about him, though._

Here, I had to wipe the slate clean and start again at the top. My chalk was also running low, so I fished out the other half.

**_He's like Shruikan?_**

_Yeah, I guess. The reason I haven't been answering your texts is I hit my head real hard when I landed and was out of it for a while, then I had to talk to the dwarves and convince them I wasn't insane or whatever. Now it's raining and we're going to stop for the night, hopefully. I was thinking...maybe I could stay and help them? Three of them die and_

**_You always have to help people._**

_Is that a bad thing?! Where I come from, it's really rude to not try and SAVE SOMEONE'S LIFE._

**_Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. But you should know: it's going to be very hard to bring a growing dragon through a portal._**

_Can it be done?_

**_If we use the Eldunarí and start saving up energy now, yes. How long will this expedition take?_**

_Well, we need to cross a good portion of a continent with 15 or 16 people and then in the book there's a lot of hanging around, first trying to figure out what to do with the dragon, then a bunch of political arguments and crap about whether or not the dwarves can keep all the treasure. And then there's a battle with goblins which I NEED TO BE A PART OF. Oh, and while crossing Mirkwood, the company is detained by elves for a long while._

**_That sounds like it'll take months. If your dragon grows as big as Saphira was when we fought in the Battle of Farthen Dur, there'll be difficulties._**

_Oh? How so?_

**_If we mess up on the return spell too? That will_**

_Not be good, yeah._

**_So do you have the book that you are in with you?_**

_Yup, got my __Hobbit__ here on the iPad._

**_Did you tell them everything?_**

_After the fiasco on Alagaësia? Everyone blaming me when things went wrong, saying I should've warned them? No, I did not._

It was about then that I noticed Kili reading over my shoulder. Because today had just been like that.

* * *

**_Nim here-The third chapter! And we finally get Syri to Middle-Earth. Thank you to everyone who commented!_**


	4. Chapter 4

"Ah..." What do you even say to someone who just read something like that?  
"Three of us are going to _die_?"  
"Well, just in the...it's not a certain thing. I've changed things just by coming here, and once I can use magic-"  
"You can use magic?"  
"Announce it to everyone, why don't you. And not yet. It's complicated."  
"What was that about a dragon? _You_ have a dragon?"  
I stuffed the slate away in its bag. It vibrated angrily at me.  
"It's really impolite to read other people's mail, you know."  
"Yes, I do know. Hasn't stopped me in the past."  
I threw up my hands. "You're impossible. You won't tell anyone anything you saw, right?"  
He looked at me, seeming confused. "Why would I not? The rest of the company needs to know this."  
"They do not. I'm very experienced at keeping people alive, you know. I saved Brom and Oromis and Glaedr, who's a dragon. It's harder than you might think, saving a dragon's life. They're really big."  
"You...a dragon's life? Why would you want-"  
"Dragons are sentient!" I said hotly. "Glaedr was very kind to me and Eragon! And Saphira is the most sensible person I know!"  
"If you love dragons so much, why would you help us kill one?!"  
"Gee, I dunno, maybe because I'm trying to help you all not die!"  
"Is there a problem?" Fili had come up behind us. I was lucky it was raining; otherwise the whole company would have heard us arguing.  
I felt my anger drain away. These were dwarves. They didn't even know the first thing about dragons.  
I glared silently at Kili, daring him to say anything about what he had just read.  
"Everything's fine," he said, not looking at me.  
As Fili fell back, Kili said, "Alright, I suppose you have your reasons for wanting to keep secrets, but the rest of the company needs to know that three die."  
"No! Don't you understand? Think forward, into the future! You are always going to be nervous and jumpy, looking for something that might kill members of the party! If all of them were like that-"  
"I cannot sit by and wait for three of us to die!" Kili hissed. "They must be warned!"  
"They do not. I will tell you something right now. My power of foresight works in this way: I have a hazy knowledge of things to come and I can use a certain instrument of mine to work out the details. But, the future I see doesn't take me into account, nor can I see my own future. If I do something such as warn someone of their death, I can't tell how it will end for them. If I make too many changes to the world around me, my power is worse than useless. So I will try not to change much unless someone's life is at stake, which means that I will wait. The three die in a battle that occurs after Smaug is defeated."  
Kili was silent. Finally, in a low voice he asked, "Who is it? Who...dies?"  
I turned around so I could look him in the eye. "Do you really want to know that?"  
He thought about this. "No, I don't," he said at last.

* * *

It was a little after sunset-still raining-when one of the ponies bolted at a crack of thunder. Unfortunately, we were by a swollen river when it happened and the beast plunged right in and was swept off its feet by the current.  
No one was riding the pony at the time, but it was carrying most of the food. There was a frenzy of shouting and dwarves leaping off their mounts to run after the floundering animal. Fili and Kili were first to reach it, wading out into the furiously rushing river and seizing the pony's bridle. They managed to get it back on its hooves but the current knocked both dwarves flat. They clung to the poor animal's reins and dragged it back under the water. Bilbo started shouting about rope.  
I ran to one of the remaining supply ponies as more dwarves tried to reach the middle of the river. I threw open one of the packs and rummaged through it. "Idiots," I muttered under my breath. "It's 'Reach, throw, row, then go'." I cursed, then moved on to the next pack. Yes! Rope!  
I raced to the side of the river. At least four dwarves were now held by the current. Fili and Kili hadn't surfaced. I tied the rope to a nearby tree, then threw the other end into the water. The current swept it into the hands of Bofur, who grabbed Nori by the back of his cloak and pulled him halfway out of the water. They both pulled themselves along by the rope and scrambled onto the bank.  
The pony surfaced once, then twice, Fili and Kili still clinging to it. Fili made a grab for the rope, but it was swept downstream before he could reach it. I reeled it in and threw again. This time Kili got a hold on it and the two dwarves began to haul the pony back to shore. The animal got a good foothold near the bank and cantered back onto damp land, dragging its rescuers with it.  
Four dwarves were soaking wet, two half-drowned, and of course the pony had lost its packs.  
And yes, they were angry at me.  
"Why didn't you warn us?" demanded Thorin once we had made camp. It was little drier under the trees we had chosen, but it kept a large part of the rain off.  
"Okay, everyone! We're going to have a little Foretelling 101 class!" I said loudly. It had been a long time since I read The Hobbit and I didn't remember the river fiasco. That was bad. I needed to use my iPad, first chance I got.  
Once all the dwarves plus one hobbit were paying attention, I began to pace back and forth. "My power of foresight is like...remembering the future. Some parts are clear, others are hazy, some I don't see at all. There's a device I have that helps me with details, but I haven't consulted it yet because of the rain. My tablet doesn't like water and would break and die if it got rained on too heavily."  
Kili frowned. "I thought you were using it as we walked."  
"No. That is a Sending Stone. A friend from Alagaësia, another world, gave it to me so we could communicate from different universes."  
I reached into my bag and pulled out the slate. I winced as I realized that my conversation with Eragon had been cut off and forgotten about during my argument with Kili. I erased the slate with a hand, then scribbled an apology on it. Eragon replied in less than a minute with _**Stop leaving me hanging! I keep thinking that you died!**_  
I then wrote, _Say hello to Thorin & Co, Eragon._  
I set the slate down so the dwarves could see the words, _**Hello Thorin and Company. Greetings from myself and Saphira,**_ wrote themselves on its surface.  
"Impressive," someone said. I think it was Gloin. "You still claim to be from another world, then?"  
I said goodbye to Eragon and nodded. "Originally, I come from a world called 'Earth'. I had no idea other worlds even existed until I fell into one somehow. That world is called Alagaësia, and I spent a year there helping with the war that was taking place. We had no means to send me back to Earth until the end of the war, when certain...items were discovered and a spell was created that could send me back. Eragon and Oromis, an elf, cast the spell so I could visit my family, tell them I was still alive, and explain that I couldn't leave Alagaësia. Something happened to me after the war, you see, something absolutely wonderful, but I could never go back to my world with it for very long.  
"The spell went wrong, somehow, and I ended up in Middle Earth instead of my world. I'd like to help you on your quest in whatever way I can if you accept my assistance."  
All of the dwarves were silent, then Thorin said, "I gladly accept your offer, Syri Farseer. Your skills will certainly be of use to this company. If you wish, you may have a share of the treasure when we reach our journey's end."  
I considered this. "I do not think," I said at last, "that gold and silver will be of much use to me in Alagaësia, and it would be cumbersome to get it through the portal. Perhaps I shall take a trinket or two that might prove useful, but otherwise I'll pass."

* * *

As soon as I got the chance, I consulted the mystic iPad. It came up with the scene from Inheritance in Galbatorix's throne room. I hit the back button and navigated my way to The Hobbit. I started to skim the beginning, just for anything that might be important, and stopped dead part way through the first chapter.

In the book, both Fili and Kili have straw-yellow hair.

W.

T.

F.

Was this the movie version? In this world, Fili and Kili looked roughly like they do in An Unexpected Journey, only younger. If this was the movie, I was done for. I couldn't access the movie from Middle Earth, and they changed so many things in the film version. The second and third movies in the trilogy weren't even out yet. Actually, they probably were but only the first was in theaters when I fell into Alagaësia.

No, wait, this couldn't be the movie version; in the film, a pony never falls in a river, and so far, these dwarves didn't seem to have any particular anger towards elves. Maybe a combination of the book and film? How could I tell what parts were going to be which?

Wait, what am I talking about? I'm freaking out because Fili and Kili have different hair colors than they do in the book. It was probably a coincidence. Maybe. I needed to stop over-thinking this.

I read until the Rivendell part, then switched my iPad off and slid it into my bag. Twelve percent battery power left. This was not good. How had I made it through the Inheritance books without running it to the ground, again?

The dwarves were busy trying to make supper with a loaf of bread, some dried meat, and Bombur's stash of snacks. Everything else had been washed away in the river. I wish I had remembered the river part.

Trolls were next up. What to do, what to do.

"No, put the sticks this way, it'll burn hotter!"

"Yes, if we can get a fire started. Put them this way; it will be easier to light."

Oin and Gloin, arguing about the fire. Just like in the book.

Bilbo was sitting glumly to one side, wrapped in his ridiculously too large hood and cloak. Any moment now...

"There's a light over there!" said Balin, pointing. Through the trees, we could see a red, dancing light in the distance. The trolls' fire.

The dwarves began to argue while Bilbo stared at the dancing flames, a frown on his small face.

Finally, Balin turned to me. "Can you foresee what would happen if we investigated the light?"

I smiled slightly. "You must understand, Balin, that my gift doesn't work like that. I see a future, not _the_ future. The future I see is the one that would have happened if I didn't exist. By telling people about the future, I change it, but it doesn't change what I see. If I wasn't here, you would eventually decide to investigate, and...I do not think the persons around that fire mean you well." I frowned, as if concentrating. "In fact, I think they're trolls."

"Well, I suppose that's settled, then," Bilbo said glumly.

"What? No! I said 'They don't mean you well' and 'I think they're trolls', not 'You'll die if you go investigate'!" How to convince them? "You'll find something in their hoard. Something important."

"What sort of thing?" asked Thorin suspiciously.

"Enchanted swords. They come in handy later."

"Oh? How so?"

"I don't know yet, alright? I just know that you'll need them." Why had I gotten myself into this?

"Hardly specific," muttered Dori.

I ground my teeth in frustration. "Look, I don't often get visions that extend this far into the future, and when I do, I pay attention to them."

"Send the burglar over to investigate," suggested Dwalin.

"Er," squeaked Bilbo, but I don't think anyone but me heard him.

Everyone agreed to this except Bilbo and I. We stayed silent.

"Then it is settled," said Thorin. We all took a pony or two by the reins and led it as quietly as possible towards the light. There was no path, of course, and it was dark, so we were constantly tripping or breaking twigs. Except for Bilbo, who flinched at every mistake the rest of us made.

Soon, the fire was close enough that Thorin waved us to a halt. "Now it is the burglar's turn," he said. "You must go and see if it is trolls or not and if they have any food. If it isn't safe, come back if you can, and if you can't, hoot twice like a barn owl and once like a screech owl, then we will see what might be done."

Bilbo opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again and began to make his way stealthily up the slight hill towards the fire. Soon he was hidden from sight.

I was nervous, waiting for him. In the book, he got himself into all sorts of trouble and then the dwarves-well, I'd just have to intervene and hope for the best if it turned out like it did in the book.

I waited. We waited. Everyone waited.

A minute went by.

Then another.

Oh dear.

The dwarves began to talk in hushed voices, wondering what to do. I didn't lend an opinion. I wanted to see what they were going to do first. In the end, they decided to send Balin to briefly scout and see what was going on by the fire. Before he could leave, I said, "Let me go with you."

The dwarves muttered amongst themselves for a moment, then Thorin waved the two of us up the hill.

I tried to be as quiet as possible, moving much slower than I normally would. I signalled to Balin that we should circle around and come from behind. I was impressed that he didn't even hesitate before following me. I drew Dauthhljödhr silently, calmed by the familiar weight of the heavy weapon in my hand.

Soon, we were at the edge of the light. The top of the small hill was a little clearing in which the large fire rested at the center. There was a large keg off to one side-full of ale or what have you-and three enormous trolls howling and banging on each other with fists (and/or bits of firewood, extinguishing optional). I was glad now I had read ahead and was prepared for this. That's why I had come around the back way. I just hoped it would be enough. We were hidden by the shadows currently.

"Look," said Balin, pointing to the other side of the clearing. I could just see two hairy feet poking out of a bush. I grimaced. We'd have to go into the firelight to reach the hobbit. Without a word, we began to make our way around the edge of the darkness. I moved quickly because it seemed like the three trolls were settling down some again, resorting to yelling and the occasional punch. Any minute now they'd turn to Bilbo again.

If only I could use magic! I wanted to scream in frustration. It would take only a few quick spells to remedy the situation. If Eragon or Saphira or Arya or even Brom were here, we'd already be happily sifting through gold in a troll hoard or having a nice feast of mutton by the fire right now. But no, our one and only wizard had to go off on a walkabout!

We were to the other side of the clearing. The trolls were complaining at each other in quieter voices. Balin looked at me, so I shrugged and ran to Bilbo's side, grabbed his jacket, and heaved him off the ground. He gave a squeak and stumbled to his feet. The trolls fell silent. They stared at us. Balin was still hiding (I hoped) but he couldn't do much.

There was a howl and "A sack, Tom, quick!" was heard. I threw myself flat and got smacked by one of the trolls' huge fists, knocking my breath out. I held onto Dauthhljödhr as an instinct and slashed awkwardly at the space above me. I was rewarded with a yelp and a confusing jumble of heavy footsteps, and before I could even tell myself to move, I was up and running.

"Hoot hoot screech or whatever!" I screamed in the general direction of the rest of the company. I turned to see Bilbo throwing rocks at Bert (or maybe it was Bill) and Balin fending off Tom with his sword. I hadn't expected Bilbo to stay for the fighting, and immediately I felt warmer towards him, even if he was being an idiot.

I had reached the fire now, and found the troll who had come racing after me. I waited until he was almost on top of me, then swung Dauthhljödhr up and held it like a pike. Bill (or maybe it was Bert) impaled himself on it. He tried to swipe me back into the fire, but I wrenched the glaive free and tumbled to one side.

Bill (or maybe it was Bert) bellowed, clutching his wound. It probably wasn't fatal to a troll but it seemed to be causing him a great deal of pain. He stumbled away to the edge of the clearing.

And then the cavalry arrived.

Twelves dwarves on foot is not exactly an army of mounted horsemen, but I thought of them as such at the moment. Bill (or maybe it was Bert) was overwhelmed and fell to the ground. I don't know if he was dead or just knocked out, but the dwarves didn't seem to care. I caught my breath and then joined them as they drove the remaining two back and subdued them. It was all over very fast. Scratch three trolls.

"That was fun," I muttered. Smooth, very smooth. Well, it went better than in the book. Oh, and it had stopped raining. That was nice.

The company was in a good mood now, and I agreed when they suggested waiting until dawn to find the troll hoard. We all settled by the fire and had a good meal of roast mutton. There was plenty of ale left in the keg for all the dwarves to have a mug or two, which cheered them most of all. When offered some, I replied that the only beer I drank was fizzy and had A&W written on it. I settled by the edge of the clearing after getting my bag back from Nori, who had watched it for me when I went with Balin.

Taking out the Sending Stone, I confirmed that there were no new messages for me and instead I began to examine the egg. It looked the same as ever, a brilliant silver with thin veins of black. Holding it in my lap, I stretched my mind out to it. I could feel the dragonling's confusion at going through the portal, though the feelings were murky as if distorted by water. I suppose all dragon eggs are like that. I tried to communicate a sense of safety and calm to it, but my thoughts kept being pulled about and distracted by the recent fight and worry over me, the egg, the company, and Fili, Thorin, and Kili in particular. I don't think the poor little dragon was at all comforted. In the end, I gave up and took my hands away from the egg.

I looked around. Kili was watching me. "Must you do that?" I asked, somewhat annoyed. He shrugged and turned back to whatever he had been doing. Honestly. I was staring at an egg. Not all that interesting.

Not that he knew it was an egg, I hoped.

I held it to my ear for a moment but heard no signs of an imminent hatching. I hoped the dragon emerged sooner rather than later so it wouldn't be helpless when we got to the bigger battles. Ideally, it would hatch within a week so that if the dwarves abandoned us, it would be a short walk back to, say, Rivendell. I had hopes that the hatchling would be accepted, but Thorin would certainly take a while to bring around. Part of me reasoned it would make sense to tell them now, but they didn't know me well enough yet and we were only a day or two away from civilization. This would not be the ideal place to tell them my secrets.

With a sigh, I slid the egg back into my bag and resisted the urge to take out the Sending Stone. I wanted to talk to someone who already knew everything about me and sympathized with my position. I wanted to talk about things like Thorn and the state of the Empire and how Arya was doing. I wanted to talk to a friend. But resist I did. It was late at night here, and I had no idea what time it was in Alagaësia. I didn't want to wake Eragon up or panic him or interrupt something important. So I left the slate in the bag.

* * *

_**Nim here! This chapter ended a tad abruptly, but I wanted to cut it off before we introduced Gandalf and went into the troll hoard (now complete with flashbacks!).**_

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_**WolfishPennings- Thank you so much for your continuing support! I'm glad you like the story!**_

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	5. Chapter 5

I must have fallen asleep (it had been a very long day) because the next thing I remember is waking up about a half hour after dawn, watching the company pack up the remaining food through bleary eyes. I sat up and stiffly released my death grip on the leather bag. I rose to my feet, slinging it over my shoulder and looking around. The three troll corpses had turned to stone in the morning light, and the great fire was out, its ashes scattered and dispersed.

"Ah, you are awake."

I turned to see Thorin standing behind me next to an old man in gray robes and a pointy hat. He was much taller than a dwarf and reminded me somewhat of Brom.

I smiled and bowed slightly. "Master Gandalf. Atra esterni ono thelduín."

He raised his eyebrows at the Alagaësian greeting but didn't comment on it. "Syri Farseer. I have heard much about you."

"Most of which was probably made up," I grumbled. "Don't believe anything they told you."

"I understand you wish to join the company?"

"Ah...yes. For now, at least. It's complicated."

"Thorin tells me you fought well against the trolls."

I was too sleepy still to be figuring out what everyone was talking about and why they were bring certain things up. "Did I? I thought I pretty much botched the whole thing. I'll get better, though. It's been a long time since I've participated in a skirmish like that." I excused myself to go find breakfast before I could say something equally stupid. I could feel Gandalf watching me as I walked away.

Then quite suddenly, I felt a tendril of thought brush my mind, alien to me. I panicked, still part way asleep, and lashed out mentally, wrapping the invading thought in a memory of drowning under the ice in a lake. I had used the memory like a weapon before, in Alagaësia, after discovering that no one else seemed to have thought of it. It was why I had been allowed to accompany Eragon, Saphira, Arya, Murtagh, and Blödhgarm's company during the FCB (Final Climactic Battle) in Galbatorix's throne room.

Surprise emanated from the invader, and they wrenched their mind free of my trap. I turned around and glared pointedly at Gandalf. Who else in the area was a mindbreaker? I would have to watch him to ensure he did not watch me.

* * *

It was only when we reached the stone door of the troll cave that I realized we needed the key. The troll corpses had already turned to stone, along with what they had been wearing and whatever might have been in their pockets. I remembered this from reading the book last night. I should have thought of the key, should have, should have. I banged my hand against the door in frustration, but received only a pair of split knuckles for my effort. In the book-

"Would this be any good?" asked Bilbo, offering a large key to the four people clustered around the door (myself, Thorin, Gandalf, and Balin). "I found it on the ground where the trolls had their fight."

He was a useful hobbit, to be sure.

"Why on earth didn't you mention it before?" cried Balin, and Gandalf quickly took the key and, with some difficulty, unlocked the door. Two more dwarves (Oin and Bifur, maybe? I was still learning everyone's names) came forward and helped us push the stone slab inwards.

I gagged at the horrible smell, a combination of wet wool and rotten meat. Bones were scattered about on the floor, but the food resting on the shelves along the cave walls looked cheeringly edible, and next to it were earthen containers filled with gold and the occasional silver piece of jewelry. Hung from simple stone pegs and natural outcroppings were sets of clothing, mostly bloodstained, and a few swords. Two of these seemed to gleam with a light of their own, glinting and winking from gem-studded hilts. The shape and make of these blades seemed particularly fine, and I did not need to be told that they were the weapons Orcrist and Glamdring. Gandalf and Thorin each took one and brought them into the light to examine. The rest of the dwarves hurried into the cave to inspect the gold and food.

I didn't pay much attention to the valuables, but instead went to take a closer look at the swords. Bilbo trailed me absentmindedly and picked out a nice knife for himself that would make a good hobbit shortsword. I hoped it was Sting, or we'd be in a world of hurt come Mirkwood.

For myself, I took a small dagger and, taking my foot out of my boot, strapped it to my ankle. Then I slid the boot back on, covering it. I checked to make sure the hilt was easily reached, then turned to see what everyone else was doing. Gandalf and Thorin discussed their new swords, and the rest of the company was going through the food to decide what was still good.

My eyes lit on a gleam in the ground, and, curious, I picked it up and brushed the dirt off. It was a little silver owl pin with tiny emerald eyes. A lump formed in my throat because it reminded me so much of Favin.

Favin was the person who taught me about the Strings. Every moment you spend with someone, you throw another spiderweb-thin String around them. Over time, you become connected by stronger Strings to more and more people. Some Strings get so thick, when they're cut they snap back and whip you. The thicker the strand, the more and longer it hurts when it's severed. Some Strings are pulled and stretched and thinned over time if you go too long without seeing the person.

Favin was a quiet boy, about Eragon's age, with dark brown hair and eyes of a deep, forest green. Nothing special-looking. I think that's what drew me to him, because he wasn't plain at all. He liked books but couldn't read very well. He wanted to be a falconer because he got along so well with birds. We first met in one of the Varden's encampments when I tripped over him because he was lying on the ground with his ear pressed to the dirt, only half of his armor on.

"What are you doing?" I had asked, a little annoyed.

"I'm listening to the earth," Favin had said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. So I lay down next to him, because I was curious. And I _could_ hear the earth-the steady thrum of people moving across its surface, the _pock pock pock_ of horses getting closer.

I had to know more about him, so we talked. I told him my story and he told me his. Favin had lived in the Empire until soldiers had come for his father, to force him into joining the army. Favin said that his father had left with them to protect his daughter, son, wife, and unborn child. Then a rumor swept Favin's town that Galbatorix would be recruiting younger men, ages fifteen and up. So Favin had left, ran away from home, so he wouldn't be forced to swear oaths and go fight a battle he didn't want to. After a year on his own, he had joined the Varden.

We fought together briefly during the Battle of the Burning Plains. Afterwards, we became friends. Favin shared his philosophies about the world, I taught him to read more fluently. I learned that he was afraid of magic and dragons. He was afraid that he would have to fight his father one day. He was afraid that Galbatorix would win and he'd still be alive.

He loved birds.

After the battle in Feinster, I found Favin's body lying on the dirty cobbles in some alleyway. A man dressed in the red tunic of Galbatorix's army kneeled over the corpse. I would have killed him right there, without the slightest hesitation, but I saw he was weeping. The man noticed my approach, but instead of attacking he told me to kill him. I didn't, because I guessed who the man was. I did not ask if it was he who had killed Favin. I was afraid of the answer.

I took Favin's father captive and led him back to the Varden. I told him that after the war, there would be a method that could be used to nullify oaths made in the Ancient Language, and I think this comforted him some.

I don't know what happened to him, and this haunts me. I think Nasuada would have told me if he died or was executed, but I can't be sure.

Favin's String was unexpectedly thick. I don't think I realized just how strong it was until it snapped, cut by the same sword that ended his life. Eragon thinks I never cried about Favin. He's wrong, I just did it where no one could see me. I felt so numb, all that night and well into the morning, then in my tent that afternoon all my grief caught up to me. I guess that particular String took a while to whip back around.

I still think of Favin, the quiet boy who loved birds and shouldn't have died.

I pocketed the owl. It was not a falcon, but it would do.

* * *

Later that day, just after we had set out once more, Kili pulled his pony up beside me.

"What is it with you?" I asked, somewhat angrily. "You've been staring at me off and on since yesterday. Is there something wrong with me that I'm not aware of, like a horn growing out of my forehead, or do you usually stare at people for no reason?"

Kili didn't even blink. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Typically when a person wants a question answered, they ask it instead of trying to psychically communicate via staring."

"Should Fili and I have died at the river? Were we meant to drown?"

My mouth snapped shut. Okay, that I had _not_ been expecting. "N-no..." Great, it sounded like I was lying. Badly. "No, you-" I clamped down on my stupid tongue before I admitted that Fili and Kili died in the Battle of Five Armies. I had almost said "No, you die later." I continued before he got suspicious. "...you almost drown, but you live." I could write a book called "How to Dig Your Own Grave".

Kili made no comment. I tried to read his face and tell if he believed me or not, but it was difficult to say. Did it really matter? Yes, yes it did. Now he'd wonder if I had been quite truthful about other things, some of which I hadn't been.

I pulled out the iPad and turned it on, smiling slightly at Kili's gasp. I swiped to unlock, then quickly flicked back through the pages of _The Hobbit_ until I found the brief passage about the river. I read aloud, "'Then one of the ponies took fright at nothing and bolted. He got into the river before they could catch him; and before they could get him out again, Fili and Kili were nearly drowned, and all the baggage that he carried was washed away off him.' Of course, it was only after the river fiasco-I just love that word; it so adequately sums up my life-that I happened across that bit, so not as useful as it might have been."

Kili looked curiously at the text on the screen, so I hastily turned the tablet off. "Was there anything else?"

"No," he said, still staring at the blank surface. Then, as I put the iPad away again, "Yes. The weapon you used against the trolls-what is it? I've never seen anything quite like it, and you seem to make it appear and disappear on a whim."

"Oh, Dauthhljödhr! It's a glaive, a very nice one. Made by a very skilled elvish smith." Any excuse to gush about my weaponry. "Don't ask me what the name means; I was very young and silly when I coined it." I reached into the empty air behind me and closed my fingers around the smooth, dense wood of the staff portion, then pulled the weapon into the sunlight. "I didn't cast the spell that lets me do that, but the space behind me in that spot acts as a gateway and by reaching into it, I can activate the spell and reach into a cellar in Alagaësia, where I store my glaive when it's not in use." It was pretty much the same spell Eragon had used so that the Eldunarí would always be right beside him after he left Vroengard for the first time, just tweaked a little.

Kili seemed to actually listen (I probably would've glazed over at "it's a glaive"), for which I was grateful. It was nice to have someone to talk at.

"Do you remember much about the Lonely Mountain?" I asked, because I was curious as to both his age and the place I was traveling to.

"Not much, I was too young at the time. I've heard stories, though."

I waited, wondering if I would have to ask him.

"Erebor was rich, not just in gold. Some of the finest architecture in Middle-Earth could be found there, chiseled into the stone."

He had a knack for this, to be sure. I liked listening as he described some of the more awe-inspiring features of the mountain. I couldn't tell you his exact words, but images of what he described presented themselves as clearly as if I had already seen them.

At one point Kili stopped and seemingly out of nowhere asked how far into the future I could see.

"I...don't know in terms of months or years or whatever, but a good long while, I think. It fades in and out, too. I know a series of quite extraordinary events that will happen a good, oh, eighty years from now, maybe less, but almost nothing in between that and, let's call it a year, in the future. Why?"

Kili tugged on his pony's reins to keep it from stopping to sample the brush, then answered carefully. "I was wondering if you could see the end of our venture, and what might happen after it."

"Ah," I said, understanding. "Yes, everyone always wants to know if they live happily ever after. I've gotten into the (probably) poor habit of telling them to jump in a lake because do they really think I would tell them if they died? Anyways, I shall try to break that habit now: Let's just say that if I told you how your quest ended, you'd go to great lengths to prevent certain things and that would change everything. I will tell you that Bilbo, at least, gets a happy ending."

"No one else?"

"Did I say that? No, I did not. Anything else?"

"Wh-"

"Good." I smiled and turned away, hoping Kili wouldn't ask another question I couldn't safely answer. I needed to be careful, more so than in Alagaësia. This whole situation could quite easily leap out of my hands, fly out the window, fall ten stories, then splatter on the pavement.

* * *

The next morning, I fell into my usual routine from when I traveled with Eragon and the Varden. I woke quite early, before anyone except Bombur and Dwalin, who were on watch. The sun was just hinting at rising as I began my exercises, starting with push ups and sit ups and then progressing into the Rimgar, second level. I could do most of the poses from the third, but not all, so I stuck with my comfort zone usually (unless Eragon was doing it alongside me. I swear, he turned into a freaking ballerina after Agaetí Blödhren).

About halfway through the Dance of Snake and Crane, people started getting up. Soon, I was attracting some peculiar looks, which I did my best to ignore.

I finished the final pose and looked around at my audience, many of whom were eating bacon or bread from the troll's cave. About half of the dwarves were in conference with Gandalf and Thorin, most of the rest were watching me. I felt like they were expecting me to do a flip, so I bowed to indicate I was done and went to find breakfast.

After being handed some bread, a piece of cheese, and declining the bacon (any meat that had been in contact with trolls I was naturally suspicious of-the mutton last night didn't count, as it was still cooking when we found it), I used a sort-of clean stick to toast my meal over the remains of the fire and ate it quickly. As I licked traces of cheese from my fingers, I looked around at the company and wondered if I could ask any of them to spar. Probably not, I decided. I had no magic yet. I couldn't block the edges of the weapons, and it wasn't like we had practice swords and glaives on hand. It would be bad if I accidentally sliced someone open.

I didn't have anything to pack or a pony to saddle, so I milled around the others for a few minutes, waiting to see if they would do anything interesting. When they didn't, I wandered a ways away and drew Dauthhljödhr, beginning a mock battle with an invisible opponent. I started slowly and simply, with just a few warm up swings, then got faster and more complicated until I was doing the crescent-shaped up-sweeping disarming maneuver Arya had tried to teach me, but I could never master. I couldn't be sure if it would have worked on a real, physical opponent, but at least I had the motion down.

My glaive was a silver blur, slicing through invisible foes and the occasional unlucky bush. Soon, I took part in a mismatched duel with a ghost for a partner, and was concentrating so hard on keeping the swordsman away from me, I didn't notice the person who came up behind me until I whirled around to block the blade of an assassin (angry at me for killing his master in the duel) and had to stop my glaive mid-swing-not an easy task-to avoid slicing Fili's head off. I may or may not have called him something rude in French, then dropped the blade of Dauthhljödhr and started to ask him what he thought he was doing, coming up behind someone who was swinging a six-foot death stick around, but he spoke first.

"It's time to be off. Are you…" He didn't finish the question, glancing some what nervously at my glaive.

"Oh, right. I'm ready." I sheathed Dauthhljödhr, then felt I should apologize for nearly slicing him in half. "Um, sorry for-"

Fili waved a hand. "It's fine. I shouldn't have gotten so close."

"Uh...yeah, you should probably keep your distance from the crazy girl swinging around sharp objects."

I followed him back to the rest of the company after picking up my bag again. Everyone was mounting their ponies or stamping out the fire, getting ready to head out. Kili stood holding the reins of two ponies, tossing one set to Fili as he neared. Soon, we were moving again.

As I walked (or jogged to keep pace with the ponies), I began to feel the stiffness in my legs from two days' worth of travel. I had been determined not to show my tiredness yesterday as I didn't want to hold up the company, but today I started to lag behind a little. Every now and then, I would catch myself and quicken my pace, but as the day wore on, I found myself walking between Fili and Kili towards the back. This proved to be a good thing, as I would automatically alter my pace to suit those of the two ponies, leaving me free to talk.

Fili described to his brother my glaive practice session, complete with the part where I almost chopped his head off.

"Can you use a sword as well as a glaive?" Kili asked. I shook my head. "I'm okay, but I haven't even picked one up for months. I started to learn but abandoned it in favor of Dauthhljödhr."

"Bow?" said Fili.

I winced. Did he have to bring that up? "I'm…bad…at archery."

"How bad?"

"As in, I-shot-the-person-behind-me bad."

Kili stared at me. "Is that even possible?"

"Who says it was an accident?"

So I told them about the incident at the Ellesméra archery range, me shooting halfway down the court because I couldn't draw the elven bows that could manage the full distance. Vanir, bored, had come up behind me and started correcting me whenever I didn't fire "properly". It ground my nerves, but I ignored him until he started on Eragon again. I don't know if he was just complaining to anyone who would listen or if he was trying to provoke a reaction from me. I started to picture the target as his face, and my shooting improved.

Finally, Vanir had said something about how "Saphira should have chosen an elf, not a weakling human". I snapped. I knocked an arrow, drew the bow, and spun around, releasing as the elf came into view.

It was a good shot, I must say. I was aiming for his foot, and my aim was true. He caught the arrow (of course), but only just. His shocked, almost panicky expression was worth it, although I immediately wished I had kept better control of my temper.

Kili and Fili in turn told me about their lives in the Blue Mountains where their people had settled after Smaug's attack. Fili shared his brother's ability for storytelling, and once again I became lost in their words.

After an hour of trading stories, I noticed Bilbo was also listening, although he had yet to contribute a tale. I was trying (and failing) to describe the Internet and finally gave up and said it was a library of everything you could want (and pretty much anything you didn't) that you could access from anywhere with a network connection from devices like my tablet. Bilbo asked what exactly my iPad was, so I dug it out and showed it to them again, trying to conserve as much battery power as possible. I told them a little about what it could do, skating over the eBook portion of things, and even played the first few seconds of an Adele song, nearly startling one of the nearby dwarves off his pony.

It was Kili who asked what sort of other music we had on Earth and Alagaësia.

"Well..." I didn't feel much like explaining rap and hip hop, and I had no idea of any Middle Earth tunes I could compare to any Alagaësian ones. "I suppose it's...similar in some ways to what you have in Middle Earth." There was a gap in the conversation then. It was such a vague answer. The silence (not real silence, of course, but the absence of voices) grated on my nerves until to my enormous surprise, I started to sing the first thing that came to my mind, as an example I suppose.

_Run, run, run away_  
_Buy yourself another day_  
_A cold wind's whispering_  
_Secrets in your ear_  
_So low only you can hear_

_Run, run, run and hide_  
_Somewhere no one else can find_  
_Tall trees bend and lean_  
_Pointing where to go_  
_Where you will still be all alone_

_Don't you fret my dear_  
_It'll all be over soon_  
_I'll be waiting here_  
_For you_

_Run fast as you can_  
_No one has to understand_  
_Fly high across the sky_  
_From here to Kingdom Come_  
_Fall back down to where you're from_

_Don't you fret my dear_  
_It'll all be over soon_  
_I'll be waiting here_

_Don't you fret my dear_  
_It'll all be over soon_  
_I'll be waiting here_  
_For you_

_For you_

_Run, run, run away_

My voice had started out soft, but it grew in volume when no one reacted negatively to it. My singing had always been a bit inconsistent; sometimes it sounded great, other times the song would sound like crap. This was thankfully a case of the former, and Bilbo applauded when I was done.

"Very nice," said Fili, "although not entirely encouraging."

"It's not meant to be," I said, thinking about where I had first heard the song. There was no point in trying to explain the concept of _The Hunger Games_ to them. I didn't even try.

* * *

**_Wow, that took a while. I'm trying to post these at the same time as my other fan fiction, and that one is slower going than TaNQBA. Not too much happening in this chapter...but you got the Favin reference! Favin is so much fun to write, and I was sad to kill him. Oh, well, it had to be done. No, I'm not going to post the original Syri Farseer story because there are a ton of "girl falls into world" stories out there already, and one of my favorite authors is currently writing an IC one. So you guys get a bunch of flashbacks! Maybe later I'll do a collection of anecdotes from Syri's first adventure later._**

**_The song is "Kingdom Come" by The Civil Wars, and I shortened it a bit so I wasn't wasting space._**

**_I promise: More frequent chapters!_**


	6. Chapter 6

After we stopped for lunch, I accepted a pony and took a blanket for a cloak against the chill in the air. The pony proved to be something of a challenge because the packs all had to be rearranged and then the stirrups couldn't be let out enough to accommodate for my legs and the. In the end, I ditched the saddle entirely and stowed it amongst the baggage. I was still too large for the pony, but at least I was more comfortable than I had been while walking.

"I haven't been this unprepared for a journey since I fell into Alagaësia," I commented to Fili, Kili, and Bilbo. "I ended up stuck on a mountainside in November with no cloak and no shoes."

"How did you survive?" asked Bilbo.

"Same as what I'm doing now: leeching off other people." I laughed. "Eragon helped me. It wasn't pleasant and I still have a scar or two on my feet." I pushed the memory away. I so did not need a recap of the torn, bloody rags wrapped around my feet as I stumbled, weak from hunger, down the mountain behind Eragon. I had preferred the Hadarac Desert crossing, personally.

My companions had been silent for several minutes when I felt the presence of another conscious mind seeking mine out. It was no longer alien to me. Vast and enormously powerful, it reverberated with deep chords of music and the faint chimes of glass bells. Beneath this, there was a crackling and roaring, as if the eery band were on fire.

_Gandalf._

_Syri Farseer._

_Did you want something?_

_Thorin trusts you, and he is a good judge of people. I, however, am not entirely certain as to where your allegiances lie._

_Buried six feet under, last I checked._

Faint amusement trickled across the mental connection._ I do not believe you to be a servant of the Enemy. Your mind is uncorrupted._

_Which Enemy are we talking about?_

_Any of them. I could name scores of people with one grievance or another against the King Under the Mountain._

_Mm. I would make a good assassin, I think._ I couldn't help it. I pictured myself in a black hood and cloak, face hidden, a poison-dipped dagger raised in one hand and a shuriken held in the other.

_You said before not to trust what the Company had told me about you. Was there anything in particular?_

I wondered what stories he had heard._ Well, if you heard that I can shoot lasers from my eyeballs or that I can jump between worlds with a wave of the hand or that I've slain a hundred dragons...I have only traveled between three worlds, and at great cost; I've only ever helped slay one dragon; and whatever they told you I shoot out of my eyes, it's not true._

_But you are not from this world and you have the power of foresight._

_Yup. And I can draw! And kill things! Oh, and..._ I hesitated. I wanted to tell Gandalf the truth. He would understand why I would have to let something like the goblin cave go without warning._ ...I don't actually see the future. I have a book on my tablet that tells what happens in this adventure. Only some things are different, little things like hair colors, and I'm scared that the book won't be good enough. It was for Alagaësia, but there, everything matched the book perfectly...except my arrival. The book only tells what would have been if I hadn't existed._

Absolute silence across the link.

_I lied to the others because my experience is that when something bad but necessary happens, such as a death that allows someone even better to become leader, people get really, really mad at me and don't trust me afterwards. I needed a reason for why I conveniently don't see events like that coming. I barely, barely scraped by in Alagaësia. I need them to trust me. I need you to trust me, Gandalf. I will lie and manipulate and keep secrets and I need you all to trust me because it is all for a reason._

Finally, Gandalf spoke again, his words heavy._ I will trust you, Syri Farseer, if only because it will be interesting to watch._

I couldn't keep a cap on my relief, so some of it must have spilled across the mental connection._ Thank you. I won't say "I won't let you down" because I have no way of knowing that it's true. But I'll try my best. It was enough in Alagaësia._

"Syri?" It took me a moment to realize that the words were spoken out loud. Kili's voice.

"What? I was having a silent conversation with a wizard."

Fili and Kili just stared at me, but Bilbo nodded solemnly and went back to watching the scenery drift past. _Everyone's going mad,_ I thought wearily. _But probably just me. In fact, any day now, I'll wake up in a straight jacket and none of this will ever have happened._ It might have been a comforting thought a year earlier, but now it just depressed me. All my work for nothing? All my friends nonexistent? My dragon never to hatch? No, I would pick this life any day.

My pony decided that now would be a good time to randomly stop and try the scruffy grass. I gave her a kick, then sighed in exasperation and reached out with my mind, prodding her into motion again. She burst into a frantic canter and almost ran into Bilbo's pony before I could pull her back. Fili and Kili were laughing.

Yes, any day at all.

I tucked my feet up and stuck my tongue out at them both, then commenced to sooth the horse mentally for several minutes until she felt perfectly fine and had no desire to stop and eat.

I fell into my usually position again, between Fili and Kili, behind Bilbo. "In my world," I commented, then changed it to "on Earth, I mean, we don't use horses for travel so much. I'd never even ridden one until Alagaësia." Alagaësia. That was my home now. It had to be, because I could never raise a dragon on Earth. "We mostly used-use-cars. They're like horseless carriages. In fact, I bet that's where the name comes from. They're very fast." I don't know why I was talking about this. It was sort of dumb, to reminisce about car travel when within a few months, my main mode of transportation would be dragonback. _Dragonback_. I had the opportunity of a millennium here, and I was wistfully thinking about cars.

Suddenly desperate to change the subject, I said, "So, I've been wondering, do you have...oh, I don't know, seafood in Middle Earth? I mean, of course you have fish and such, but shrimp? Clams?"

To my surprise, it was Bilbo who answered. "We have clams, yes. I am not sure about the other thing."

"You poor things," I laughed. "Without shrimp. It's been...almost a year and a half since I've had any. What about pineapples?"

"Another name for pinecones, or a type of food?" asked Kili.

"Food," I answered. "I suppose they look a little like pinecones...except they're bigger and yellow and much smoother with a big green spiky tuft on top and actually they don't look like pinecones at all. Never mind. Watermelon?"

"Yes," said Fili. "At least, in some places."

And so it went for a good while, me naming something that I wasn't sure existed in this world and the dwarves and Bilbo telling me if it did or didn't. If it wasn't something found in Middle Earth, I would describe it for them.

"Oil lamps?"

"What?" said Kili

"Yes," said Bilbo.

"Clocks?"

"Did...did you make that word up?"

"We have them in the Shire."

"Lapis lazuli?"

"Dwarves from the south mine it sometimes. Usually you don't see any this far north."

"What's a lazuli?" asked Bilbo.

I let Fili fill him in, smiling at Kili's triumphant expression.

"Is it just the Mûmakil, or are there elephants as well?"

"I've seen neither, but I've heard stories about oliphants."

"Do you have olives?"

"Which are...?"

There was a moment's pause where the three of us waited for Bilbo to say the Shire had olive orchards. When he looked just as puzzled as the others, I did my best to explain olives, and then Greece, and then some Greek mythology, and then what a lion was. They also wanted to know what Nemean meant, and I didn't know so I made something up. I wished I had an Internet connection so I could just set them loose with Google.

That evening I got a text.

**_Everything all right Syri? It's been a few days._**

I smiled, pleased that Eragon wanted to talk.

_I'm fine. No one's died yet. Kili, stop reading over my shoulder._

**_What?_**

There was a sigh from behind me and I could sense him walking off. Well, it had been an educated guess, and a good one too.

_He's always trying to read my texts. Rather awkward trying to explain our last conversation._

**_...And how's the egg?_**

_Doing well as far as I can tell. It hasn't hatched._

I looked around again just to make sure no one had seen that. Luckily, Kili was staying away and everyone else was sitting around the fire.

**_So if they're on a quest to slay a dragon and they don't haven't been exposed to any, well, good dragons, what will you do when it does?_**

_Hmm, so many options. Hide it and lie like a rug? Grab the hatchling and make a run for it? I dunno, I'm still working on that part._

**_"Dunno"? That's how you spell it?_**

_Yes, it is. Got a problem with_

**_No, all fine._**

_Good. So how are things up Alagaësia way?_

**_Well, we're settling into our new Rider base._**

_Already?! But I thought you were going to...oh, I don't know._

**_Do you really need to do the "..."?_**

_Eh, looks better._

**_Of course._**

_And...?_

**_And what?_**

_Where did you go? For the Rider base._

**_Well..._**

_See! Now you're doing it too!_

**_Yes. Anyway, we talked it over with Brom, Oromis, Glaedr, and the others and decided_**

_Vroengard?_

**_Don't interrupt! Yes, Vroe_**

_YES! ! ! ! SYRI'S FINAL VICTORY OF THE INHERITANCE CYCLE! ! ! !_

**_...You just took up the entire slate with exclamation points._**

_And yet you find room to comment on it._

The slate wiped itself clean.

**Any_ways, we set up temporary camp within the city. We're starting the spells that will purge the poison from the island tomorrow. It'll take a while, but Oromis and Glaedr really wanted this._**

_I can imagine. That was their base of operation for many years, wasn't it?_

**_Yes. Brom's happy, too. Saphira thinks it's a good idea also._**

_And Murtagh? Thorn?_

**_I don't think they're entirely happy to be here, honestly. The ruins are rather..._**

_Mm. Does Arya visit?_

**_We've been gone two days._**

_Oh. Right. But she will. Probably. Maybe. You'd better be the one to visit, to make sure. Send that love poem yet?_

**_I swear, I'm an inch away from smashing this slate._**

_Good! Protectiveness, or something. Whatever. Any eggs choose a Rider yet?_

**_Two. Days._**

_I'm just asking! Starfire, I can't tell what you've been doing all the way from Middle Earth!_

**_I can't believe you still use that word._**

_What?_

**_"Starfire". There are some much more colorful exclamations if you'd like._**

_Well, everyone always stares at me oddly when I start shouting "Oh my god!" because apparently you Alagaësians don't do that. Hence "starfire"._

**_I know, but you could still use something else._**

_Meh. Syri loves it, she does, Precious._

**_What? I...what?_**

_I thought it was fitting seeing as I'm in Middle oh, forget it._

**_Okay...Oh, and Murtagh wants to talk to you._**

_Yay! Put him on!_

**_What?_**

_The...never mind._

The slate wiped clean, and then it was Murtagh's bold handwriting, neater and faster than Eragon's, scribbling across the tablet.

**_Syri! How are things?_**

_Mur! I missed you!_

**_Miss you too. So, you've entangled yourself in another_**

_Wait!_

**_What?_**

_Your first question. Things are fine except for the people READING OVER MY SHOULDER. Seriously, Fili, you're as bad as you're brother._

"I'm not read-ah, getting more firewood." Hurried footsteps faded back towards the circle around the fire.

_Okay, we're good now. Eesh, they should learn some manners._

**_Ah. Has the egg hatched?_**

_Nope. Not sure what I'll do when it does._

**_Tell them about the Riders now, before they have to accept the dragonling. Make them understand._**

_I suppose...I'm just worried that if I start to tell them, they'll realize what I have is an egg._

**_They'll eventually know, one way or another._**

_You're right, Mur...I should probably tell them while I have the chance._

**_Remind me again why you call me that._**

_It's just a nickname!_

**_Then do I get to call you Sarah?_**

I think at that point I stopped breathing. Of course. Of course he knew. He was the one who pulled me out of that memory in Ûru'baen. He must have seen someone call me Sarah and realized that Syri wasn't my birth name. Oh, yes, and I had been frantic, trying to figure out why I was hearing a voice in my mind who called me Syri and may have screamed "My name is Sarah! I don't know you! Get out of my head!". Just a little bit.

I shuddered at the memory of the memory...my first visit to the city Illirea. It was all coming back to me, though I tried to push it away. The Hall of the Soothsayer, the Dauthdaert, and Murtagh. Being trapped in a memory of my former high school, not knowing that I was really in a different world, kneeling on a cold stone floor while Murtagh shouted my name, unable to do anything. Finally, he touched my mind with his and spoke to me, telling Sarah Dunnley that she wasn't really in a school, she was in a book, in the Inheritance Cycle, in Ûru'baen.

My Earth self had no idea what was going on, or why a voice calling itself Murtagh was speaking to me. Eventually, finally, the spell broke because I believed Murtagh and let him pull me into the real world.

**_Syri? Syri, I'm sorry, I didn't think it would upset you._**

_Hey, it's fine. I'll be fine. Just reminiscing. Ah, the good old days where we fled for our lives and tried to beat each other into a pulp with dull swords._

**_I preferred the dull swords to what came after we reached the Varden._**

_Mm. And then Eragon had to turn into an elf and I ditched swordplay and suddenly you were left to spar with Brom._

**_The old man couldn't even touch me._**

_Bwa ha ha! I'm recalling a certain incident with_

**_The helm, yes. Please don't bring that up._**

_Starfire, we all thought you were dead. And then you_

**Please****_ don't bring that up._**

_Okay, okay! How's Thorn?_

**_Doing well. He's getting bigger fast. I'm not sure he likes Vroengard though._**

_The ruins, or..._

**_That, and all the strange things around. Like the shadow birds._**

_Ah. Does he like the snaglí?_

**_Yes, quite a lot._**

_And you?_

**_Too slimy._**

_I meant how do you like Vroengard!_

**_It's alright. Slightly creepy, with everything enormous and in ruins._**

_Mm. Well, I should probably get some sleep._

**_The sun only just set._**

_It's close to midnight here. Slight time difference between the worlds, I guess. I wonder if Middle Earth spins faster than Alagaësia?_

**_...Pardon?_**

_The planets are spheres flying at incredible velocities through an empty void around the sun(s). Did you not know?_

**_I think you just threw away my entire understanding of the world._**

_My advice? Get used to it. Ask Eragon if the world is a sphere. He's seen it for himself._

**_...Goodnight, Syri._**

_Night Mur._

I smiled as I set down the slate and tucked it into my bag. My piece of chalk was a stump now. I would have to think up something else to write with.

I got up and dragged myself over to the circle of dwarves around the dying fire and spread my blankets just outside of it. I curled up and held my scuffed leather bag in the crook of one arm, trying to fall asleep. I was thinking too hard about how Murtagh knew my real name. It shouldn't have mattered, but somehow it did. Did he think I was trying to be more impressive by changing my name to something more fantasy-ish? _Was_ I? Maybe I had been trying to change who I was as a person and start over again? No, I couldn't have. I changed my name long before I realized that I wasn't dreaming. Maybe I was just trying to fit in. Maybe I didn't want to be reminded of where I had come from every time someone addressed me.

Why hadn't Murtagh told me that he knew my real name? Or was _Syri_ my real name? Did he think that I knew he knew it? Did he think it didn't matter?

Did it matter?

My thoughts spun off on a wild tangent then. I tried to figure out what exactly a name was, and why names mattered. In the end, all I could think of was _In geometry, a tangent is a line that touches a circle at just one point. Why is it called a wild tangent when you start talking about a different subject entirely? Is it because at some point you had to connect the tangent topic to the original topic? Maybe that's it. Maybe when a conversation is going in circles, you have to grab a new line of thought that only barely touches the original one. Oh, and I'm definitely crazy. Just listen to me think. And now I'm thinking about thinking. About thinking! Oh dear._

Finally, my subconscious took pity on me and wrapped me in sleep. It was not the most restful I've ever had.

First, I dreamed about being six years old again. I was sitting on the counter in the kitchen with my legs dangling off, eating a cookie that I shouldn't have had. My mother had found me then, and I waited for her to start in with the _You should learn to behave yourself!_ and _You can't have cookies whenever you feel like it!_ and the most dreaded _Why can't you be more like your sister?_

Instead, this dream mother looked at me sadly and turned into a dragon.

I hate my subconscious.

I was now eighteen again, running through a dark forest and tripping over roots. The canopy above me chittered with angry clicking noises and let in no light. I was wild with fright, trying to escape the terror behind me. Shruikan was chasing me, and was also my mother. But when I looked back, wondering how Shruikan would fit through the trees, I saw only a mass of writhing blackness, as if he had turned into living oil and was pouring through the forest in pursuit. Somehow, this was even more terrifying than the enormous black dragon himself.

A sense rose within me, a desperation. I had to save...someone. Everything was going wrong. If only I could stop to check my iPad and see how Bilbo was supposed to defeat Shruikan! But, no, Bard the Bowman killed Shruikan. Bilbo killed Thorn, I think.

And then it was a huge red dragon chasing me, ripping up trees and roaring bloody murder. I stumbled and fell, then couldn't get up. I cried out in fear, raising my arms to shield myself from the blast of fire I knew was coming.

Suddenly, Murtagh leapt out of the darkness and stabbed the red dragon with the Dauthdaert. The enormous beast shuddered and fell, crushing several trees but missing us. I rose to my feet hesitantly and put my arm around Murtagh. "I'm sorry you had to kill Thorn. I know you loved him more than anything, and he's my mother, too."

Then I think Murtagh turned into Kili and I woke with a start, my hand flying out to hit something hard.

I _really_ hate my subconscious.

"Ah! What was that for?"

I pulled the blanket away from my face to see it _was_ Kili next to me, pinching a bloody nose.

"Oh, starfire," I whispered, then sat up. "Kili, I'm sorry! I was having a terrible dream and you woke me suddenly. Is it broken?"

"If it is, it'll do him good," Fili said from by the fire. "Thinks too highly of his own looks, he does."

Kili glared at his brother and then rose to his feet, offering me a hand. "Apology accepted. We're moving out again."

"Oh! You should've woke me earlier. Now I won't have time for the Rimgar." I took the hand and lurched to my feet, then gathered my things and wrapped myself in a blanket again. I couldn't stop staring at Kili, thinking, _He looking looks nothing like Murtagh. What's wrong with my brain, anyways?_

I really, really hate my subconscious.

* * *

_**Nim again- And another chapter of people standing around talking to each other! How riveting! Next up is...let's see, more people standing around talking to each other! Starfire, Tolkien, couldn't you give us some excitement between the trolls and the Misty Mountains? (And by "excitement", we mean people fighting for our entertainment.)**_

_**Yes, Murtagh and Syri have History. No, it's not romantic (much!). I'm sorry I didn't go into the Ûru'baen bit in more detail, but I didn't want too much of a flashback there. I know that Syri and Murtagh's time in Illirea will go into the collection of short (*cough!*) stories I'll post about the Alaga**__ësia saga sometime after I finish this story. Also included will be the Favin stuff and some other bits and pieces. Happy birthday. Once again, thank you all for your support and reviews!_


	7. Chapter 7

It took us another week to reach Rivendell. I kept looking for a good time to bring up the Riders, but I never found an opening. Okay, maybe I was just nervous. I did start keeping the egg in my bag whenever I checked on it. I didn't need more questions.

As the days went by, the dragonling's consciousness grew more distinct. I still had minimal success communicating, but I could tell it was getting ready to hatch. I wondered if it would really be so bad if I just let whatever would happen happen. Surely I could bring the dwarves around after it hatched. No. I was being stupid. What was I so afraid of that I wasn't telling the dwarves of the dragon egg they were traveling with?

Then we reached Rivendell, and all those thoughts were driven briefly from my mind.

The first thing I became aware of was the smell, a scent of crushes pine needles, faint on the breeze. I could see no pine trees around us, or any trees at all, for the land was plain-like, a cross between moor and marsh, with several unexpected crevasses and steep valleys that would be hidden by heather and broken stone until you nearly fell into them. Close, now, loomed the vast gray shapes of the Misty Mountains.

Evening was drawing near, and Gandalf had promised we would reach settlement before moonrise. We all were draped over our ponies and propping our eyelids open with our fingers at that point so the news was welcome, but the dwarves and hobbit seemed to be having doubts.

And just as I lifted my head and sniffed at the curious evergreen scent, Gandalf brought his horse to a halt and before us lay another valley, but you could tell that this one was Elven. For one thing, the smell of pines was stronger, now accompanied by the rushing of a river far below us. The banks of the river were rocky, but the ground above was grassy and dotted with beech trees and oaks. Most of the pines were higher, clinging to the sides of the steep valley walls.

A bridge, slim and arching, crossed the river and led on to silvery buildings that seemed grown out of the ground. The whole thing looked an awful lot like it had in the movie.

Then there was the path down, a horrid narrow thing that zig-zagged back and forth along the wall with an unreasonably steep drop to one side. Our ponies plodded along it, picking their footing carefully (or maybe they were just as tired as we were).

I am not scared of heights. I was simply made nervous by the knowledge of what my body would look like if my idiot pony wasn't careful.

The smell of pine trees was overwhelming as we descended, which made no sense as there were scarcely any evergreens around. Must be an elvish thing, because all the elves in Alagaësia smelled like pine needles too, even when they hadn't visited their forest home for years. From the way Bilbo's head kept nodding, it was making him sleepy.

I had never really thought about how well evergreens symbolize elves. Both are long-lived, tall, beautiful, sharp if you get too close, never fading, and represent Christmas.

Right. Tangents.

We reached the bottom alive and emerged in a picturesque glade just as a burst of laughter and a sudden bout of song came from the trees. Most of it was nonsense, but a few voices called out in greeting, particularly to Bilbo and Gandalf. I caught a few glimpses of the voices' owners, tall and slender with long, loose hair. Finally, one of them stepped into the light and cried, "Welcome to the valley!" He bowed to Gandalf and Thorin, who said, "Thank you!" rather gruffly.

"You are a little out of your way," continued the elf, "that is, if you are making for the only path across the water and to the house beyond. We will set you right, but you had best go on foot, until you are over the bridge. Are you going to stay a bit and sing with us, or will you go straight on? Supper is preparing over there. I can smell the wood fires for the cooking."

The dwarves (and I heartily agreed) were all for supper as soon as possible and then maybe sleep.

As we dismounted, I looked around and saw Gandalf already walking amongst the elves, greeting them and talking to them in their own tongue. Middle Earth elvish was different from Alagaësian elvish; it had a certain bubbly, fast-paced quality that reminded me of a river, like if I tried to speak it I would be swept away. I often felt the same when attempting rapid French, though, so perhaps it was just an effect foreign languages had on me.

We led our ponies to the bridge I had seen from above the valley and went across one by one. The bridge was stone and (of course) very narrow without handrails. The elves laughed a bit about the dwarves' lack of balance, so I did my best to walk quickly and sure-footedly (is that a word?) across. Our escort bid us farewell and returned to the glade where they had been singing, and we walked through the open doors into the Last Homely House.

I remember very little about that evening, save the clear, ringing voices of the elves and the amazing food. It all passed in a blur of tired happiness and snatches of song, and I woke the next morning feeling like I had just slept three years in Elesméra.

It was a perfect sort of day, with just enough clouds to provide texture to the sky and the sort of temperature that you don't notice because it's not too hot or too cold. I felt like doing a bit of drawing since not much interesting would happen for another two weeks or so. I shouldered my leather bag and left my room.

I found an elf and begged a charcoal pencil and some parchment from him, then wandered around until I stumbled on a large hall with a fire burning in the center. Two elves sat by it, trading songs. One would strum a harp (or was it a lyre?) and sing, the other would listen and then be passed the instrument and perform his or her own song. They nodded to me when I entered without pausing their music.

I settled near the back of the hall on the floor and started to sketch. At first I wasn't sure what I was drawing, but soon it began to shape itself into a face. I decided what form it would take and began to add details: slanted eyes bright with concentration, upswept brows, a hard-set mouth, that ridiculous little curl of hair at his temples, ears that tapered into a point. Once I had finished Eragon's head, I worked my way down and after a couple of hours I had a startlingly good sketch of him gripping Brisingr with both hands raised to shoulder height. I used the tip of a finger to begin smudging in shading, a project that took me another half hour. When I was done, I stopped to admire it. For me, a good picture would be one where you could identify the subject, but this was an actual piece of artwork (by Syri standards).

I looked up to find I was now alone in the hall. I hadn't even noticed the music stopping. I wondered if I should perhaps go find something to eat, but I had already had a quick breakfast and wasn't ready for lunch yet. I settled back down and began to draw Murtagh to the left of Eragon, sparring with him. After another hour or so, I heard footsteps coming towards me. They were not the light _tip-tap_ of elven shoes but rather the heavy _thunk_ of dwarven boots, stopping a few feet from me.

"Morning, Kili," I said, rubbing out a line and carefully redrawing it.

"Afternoon. You missed breakfast, by the way. Thought I'd come looking for you before lunch."

"Oh, thank you. I didn't know it was that late." I set down the charcoal pencil and smiled up at him. He was still wearing his leather traveling clothes, but they were much cleaner. I had on an outfit I'd taken from the wardrobe in my room; plain silvery tunic and simple black leggings.

"Is this someone in particular?" asked Kili, nodding at my drawing.

I gathered it and the other parchments into a stack and tucked the charcoal pencil behind my ear. "Yes, that's Eragon and Murtagh. Mur is the one with black hair, Eragon is the one who looks like an elf." I rose to my feet.

"It's very good."

"Thank you," I muttered. I hesitated, wrestling with the terrible demon of indecision, then set down the pile of papers and pulled the egg out of my bag. "Know what this is?"

Kili's eyes flicked from me to the egg once. "Is it a dragon egg?"

I stared for a moment then weakly said, "I guess I had that coming."

"Well, you weren't being very careful."

"Yes, silly me, leaving my Sending Stone where someone could read it over my shoulder. And my bag where people could steal it and rifle through my stuff."

"I meant taking it out where anyone could see it. So it _is_ an egg?"

"Well, it's not a shiny potato. Have you told anyone?"

"Have you?"

I twisted the egg around in my hands. "Do you think I'd still be here if I had?"

"It depends on why you have the egg."

I tapped my foot ever so slightly on the stone floor.

"Alright, I told Fili of my suspicions. We both kept quiet because we figured you either had a good reason for carrying around a dragon egg or you were...well, clearly you have a good reason to you; I just wonder if your good reasons are quite the same as our good reasons."

I thought about this. "The dragon hatchling will be no more threat to you than I am, and I do not wish any of you harm. It will be a friend to me like no other, and there are the added bonus effects of immortality and ability to use magic."

"Are you going to wait for me to ask, or...?"

I explained it to him, the war between elves and dragons, the solution they came up with, the magical binding, and the relationship between Rider and dragon. Then I told him about how I had been chosen by the silver egg and why I had it with me. It took me maybe twenty minutes during which Kili was completely silent. It was a little unnerving.

Finally, he spoke. "And when were you going to tell us this?"

"I just did! I told you it was a dragon egg. You told me it was a dragon egg."

"When are you going to tell Thorin and the rest of the company?"

"Oh..." I transferred the egg from one hand to the other, back and forth. "Well, I had been meaning to say something for a while now, but I just...never found an opening. Plus I didn't want to say five words and be thrown out of the Company before I can get to the rest."

Kili was silent for a moment. "Do you want me to say something for you?"

I stared at him. "You would do that? Oh, never mind. I should be the one to bring it up. I'll do it soon-ish, I think. Maybe at supper tonight when everyone's drunk?"

"It's a strategy. What sort remains to be seen, but it could work."

I tucked the egg away again and gathered my papers in my arms again. "Thank you, Kili."

"For what?" he asked, turning to leave.

"I don't know. For...for hearing me out and believing me, I guess."

He smiled over his shoulder. "I'm still not entirely sure what to believe."

"You could just wait and see," I offered. "You probably won't have too long before you'll know the truth." I followed him out of the hall and through a set of corridors to the large room where we'd had dinner the previous night. All of the dwarves were there along with Bilbo, Gandalf, and quite a few elves.

"One last thing," I said, stepping to the side of the doorway. "Please tell Fili about the egg. I might not get a chance before I say something to everyone at once, and I'd like him to know."

Kili nodded. "I'll talk to him." He walked past me into the hall.

"Thank you," I whispered, even though he was out of hearing.

* * *

Dinner that night put me on edge. I felt like I had made a promise to Kili, and I would honor it. Even if it killed me. Okay, I'm being melodramatic. What else is new?

When I went back to my rooms before supper, I found a helpful elf had left me a blue silk dress in case I wanted to change for the meal. I hesitated, stroking the soft fabric, then put it on and wrenched my hair into some semblance of neatness. I slid into my old leather boots after giving them a quick clean and slung my bag over my shoulder. It would be a reminder to me of what I needed to do.

I was one of the first few people to arrive in the dining hall, so I seated myself on the far side of the large table. I watched people enter the room a handful at a time, sitting down and waiting for the rest of the guests to arrive.

Bilbo sat next to me, shaking his head at the gap between his feet and the floor, especially when an elf came and brought him cushions so his head was level with the others. Fili and Kili sat across from us with Thorin nearby, which made me nervous. I was most worried about his reaction when I revealed the egg. Kili caught my apprehensive face and smirked at me, so I leaned back in my chair and glared at him.

He glanced down at my bag and raised an eyebrow. I just shook my head and sighed. It occurred to me that we had just had a conversation of sorts without a single word passing between us.

All too soon, the first dishes were being passed around. Chatter rose and fell around me. I talked little, content to eat, watch, and wait for a good moment, preferably when everyone else was intoxicated.

As I helped myself to more salad, I heard a faint _peep-peep_. I froze. No, as I was helping myself to more salad, I did not hear a faint _peep-peep_, because not even my luck could be that terrible.

_Peep-peep._

Well, crap. Fear and unbearable excitement stole through me, and my body shivered with a shot of adrenaline.

I looked around quickly to see if anyone else had noticed, but Bilbo was too engaged with the elf to his left, and no one else was close enough. I desperately locked eyes with Fili and Kili, who seemed to get the message.

I stood. I didn't mean to, but it seemed natural. The noise in the hall died down as faces turned towards me. I took a steadying breath. No time to be subtle. "I've got a dragon egg in my bag, and it's about to hatch. Thought you ought to know." Had I really just said that? Had that really come out of my mouth? Fili's disbelieving expression told me it had. Silence rang through the room. The egg in my bag gave a single, louder _peep!_ as I took it out and set it on the table, sinking back into my chair.

"Don't just let it hatch; do something!" came the voice of a dwarf. I glared furiously in his general direction, then smoothed my face to a mask of calm. I started to speak again.

"In Alagaësia, there is a ritual a mother dragon can perform over her egg to bind it within its shell until the hatchling within senses a person who will be a good match for it. Then, it hatches within a month and the two are bonded as Rider and dragon. The-"

The egg gave another loud squeak and started to rock back and forth. Bilbo pushed his chair away from it, staring at its silver shape with alarm. I continues as if nothing had happened. "The Riders have a unique mental bond with their dragons. They share thoughts, and one always know what the other is feeling. The Rider-bound dragons are not like wild dragons. They reason before acting, they have empathy. They _understand_." I would not look to Fili and Kili for support. I would not bring them into this. I searched the faces around the table, wincing internally at each loud, piercing squeak. Half the eyes were on the egg. The other half looked at me with suspicion and disbelief. Oh joy. I might have scooped up the egg and left right then, but I realized that Fili, Kili, and Thorin's lives may rest with this argument.

I was just about to say something more when the eggshell cracked, once, twice, three times, then broke open. A slim shape tumbled out onto the table and struggled to shake off the membrane around it. It was silver in color, like the egg, damp and bedraggled, mostly a bundle of limp wings.

Thorin leapt to his feet, reached for his sword, realized he wasn't wearing it, and grabbed the knife by his plate. A thunder of voices and a few shouts began to echo through the hall. Several people stood, and Bilbo nearly fell out of his chair. The hatchling shrieked in alarm and awkwardly flapped its wings, rising a few inches off the table.

"Stop! STOP!" I yelled, standing again. The noise dropped. Thorin did not put down his knife.

"It's just a dragon! Starfire, I have no idea what you're all so terrified of. It won't breathe fire for another five months at least. It's not going to attack you. It doesn't have magical powers. It's a fracking hatchling. Trust me, I'm a professional. Sort of."

The dragonling took a few stumbling steps, discovered my salad, and sampled a cranberry. I felt giddy elation just from watching it. Such a perfect creature. Unfortunately, not everyone shared this opinion. "It's dangerous," Thorin said, glaring at it with distrust.

I couldn't help it. "Of course it's dangerous! I'm dangerous! _You're_ dangerous! But that doesn't mean that any of us three are going to spontaneously start killing people or breaking things. Please give it a chance. I promise you, having a Rider and dragon in your company will be a huge help."

Thorin hesitated. "It's a dragon."

"It's an Alagaësian dragon," I said, "and Rider-bound besides. As long as I mean you no harm, it means you no harm." Which wasn't strictly true of course, but more or less realistic.

The dragon, oblivious to the argument going on around it, was testing its wings and becoming surefooted, walking around my plate with greater and greater confidence. A smile rose unbidden to my lips. This was my future, tripping over silverware and squeaking in annoyance.

"Give her a chance," came Kili's voice. I looked at him, startled, but his eyes were fixed on Thorin, who considered the dragonling one last time before setting down his knife and dropping into his chair again. I breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. I hoped the rest of the dwarves would also accept the hatchling, but only time would tell.

Fili, meanwhile, was stretching out a hand as if to stroke the dragon. He caught my eye with a questioning glance. I wasn't sure if he was asking permission or if it was a good idea, but my eyes went wide and I gave a very small shake of my head. He snatched his hand back and offered me an apologetic smile. I wasn't sure what would have happened if he had touched it. Would he have become its Rider, or would the magic have sensed that he wasn't the right person?

I waited until I caught Kili's gaze, then announced, "I am going to fall over now. Don't let them hurt it." Before anything else could happen, I reached out and placed a finger on the hatchling's smooth, damp forehead.

I had expected the icy fire described in the books, but I had not expected it to be quite as excruciating. My skin froze and felt like it was splitting open and my veins sang with searing pain. White stripes of blazing light crossed my vision and my knees buckled. A horrible ringing noise filled my ears and I bit my tongue until it bled to keep from screaming. After what seemed like a very, very long time, the pain lessened and I felt warmth in me again. The skin of my left palm itched something fierce, but I ignore it.

I pushed myself up off the stone floor with a stifled groan, discovering that the dragon was now situated on my chest, piping in concern. Several people knelt next to me, including Gandalf, Elrond, Fili, and Kili. I smiled weakly. "That was interesting."

"What happened?" Gandalf asked. His face was full of concern, and his eyes flicked occasionally to the dragonling.

I stared at Fili and Kili. "Did-Did I not say anything about the gedwëy ignasia?" Kili shook his head, his face unreadable. I totally mentioned that. Definitely. ...Oops.

I looked down at my clenched left fist and slowly uncurled my fingers, palm up. I smiled at the perfect silver oval scar and at the reactions it was eliciting. "'Shining palm' in the Ancient Language. It's the mark of a Rider. The bonding with a dragon is...difficult, but it's worth it." I scooped the hatchling into my arms, then stood, slowly and carefully, as did everyone else. I rolled the shoulder that had struck the ground and flexed my left hand. Both hurt, the shoulder more so, but it would fade in time.

"Excuse me," I murmured, and walked out of the dining hall, transferring the dragonling to my good shoulder and feeling my heart soar at the warm touch of its nose against my neck. The gedwëy ignasia glowed dimly in the dark corridor.

I was a Rider.

* * *

**_...Better late than never?_**

**_So, here we go, finally a new chapter and Syri is a Rider (and Fili almost was! I chickened out on that one, though :P ). But it's not over yet! You'll find out more in the next chapter. Or something._**

**_Please, please leave me a review if you have any comments or questions or even if you just want to say "u should kill thorin". Also if I mess up too badly, feel free to wave it in my face._**

**_Happy Almost-Halloween!_**

**_-Nim_**


	8. Chapter 8

I woke the next morning, half hoping, half worried it had all been a dream. I rolled onto my side and saw the dragon perched on the bedpost, studying me with storm-colored eyes. A spark passed between us, formed of the joy taken in each other's presence.  
I reached out with my my mind to touch its consciousness, finding it ravenous again even though I had fed it before bed and again in the middle of the night. I sent my dragon a feeling of agreement and rose from the bed. I was stiff and wanted to spend a few minutes doing the Rimgar but decided against it when the hatchling huffed impatiently.  
I threw on the first set of clothes I found in my wardrobe and yanked on my boots, yawning repeatedly. Had Eragon felt this tired after bonding with Saphira? I held out an arm like a falconer and sent a brief image and inquiry to the silver dragon. It chirped happily and sprang from the bedpost, gliding awkwardly through the air and landing with a soft thump and a flurry of wings on my wrist, sending dancing points of light across the walls. I was surprised when I felt no sharp claws, but the dragonling was being very careful as it climbed up my arm and spread itself across my shoulders, coiling a slim tail around my throat like a pearl necklace. I reached up a hand to stroke its head and was rewarded with a soft pur.  
This is how I entered the hall where we had our meals, eyes only half open and a dragon hatchling set to "vibrate" perched on my shoulder. It drew several gazes, which I barely noticed. I plunked into the first chair I found with a sigh and stared at the table in front of me, suspiciously bare of food. _Table,_ I told the hatchling. It was never too early to begin learning words. _Empty,_ I continued. _Sad._  
"If you're waiting for food to magically appear before you," came a voice, "you'll be there until we leave."  
"Morning, Fili," I mumbled. "I won't say what kind it is, though. Haven't decided yet."  
He sat down in the chair to my left, setting a plate of steaming eggs and bacon on the table. My stomach growled and the silver dragonling lifted its head and sniffed the air hopefully. The tail stirred and the hatchling slid down my arm like mercury.  
I grabbed it with two hands, gently but firmly, before it could lunge at Fili's plate. "Come on, you," I said, lifting it onto my shoulder again. "Let's go get our own breakfast."  
The dwarf watched in fascination. "Are all dragons in your world that color?"  
I winced as the hatchling squawked a protest in my ear. "No, they're all different colors. Eragon's dragon, Saphira, is blue; Murtagh's Thorn is red. Shruikan was black as jet with ice blue eyes." I shivered slightly at the memory and tried my best to wall it off from the dragonling. "You don't seem particularly averse to dragons. Unlike some people I could mention."  
Fili shrugged. "I am, just not as much as 'some people'. The hatchling clearly doesn't mean us any harm, not yet, and I try to be open-minded. Does it have a name yet?"  
I shook my head as I rose to my feet again. "I want it to have a choice in its name like Saphira did. I'll probably come up with a nickname or something in the mean time."  
When I returned a few minutes later with breakfast and a full, contented dragon, Kili was in my chair, talking across the table with Balin. I sat down next to Fili again without a word, smiling to the general world.  
"How fares the Dragon Lady and her ward?" Kili asked, leaning around his brother.  
"Tired, but happy," I responded, then began to attack my food. The hatchling jumped from my shoulder, flared its wings, and landed in front of Balin. He eyed it warily for a moment but made no movement. The dragon sniffed him, then wandered over to Kili. It sat down, wrapped its tail around its front paws like a cat, and piped three notes at him expectantly.  
"You pig," I told the hatchling. "You just had breakfast. Stop pestering other people."  
Kili set down his fork. "Is it...safe to touch?"  
"Do you mean will it bite, or will you collapse like I did last night? No on both accounts, I think." I pressed the idea of not biting into the dragon's mind. I swear the emotion I got in return was disdain, then a jumble of images and feelings it took me a moment to sort out. "She says she won't bite because...dwarves taste bad."  
Fili laughed, almost choking on his eggs, while Balin pushed himself away from the table. "How could it know that? It hatched _last night_."  
"They have ancestral memory," I said, recalling one of Oromis's lessons. "They have all sorts of instincts and knowledge normal creatures wouldn't at birth. It's why they can fly short distances hours after hatching."  
Kili stroked the hatchling's head cautiously, perhaps wondering just how one of the creature's ancestors came to taste dwarf. The dragon snorted a puff of smoke, then ruffled its wings and leaned towards him, making that same purring noise.  
"Like a cat," Fili observed. "Unless that's a growl."  
The hatchling rolled onto its side, eyes closed lazily, one leg draped over Kili's plate. Without warning, it snatched a strip of bacon and darted away again, slipping from between the dwarf's hands like water. It scuttled over to me and hid unsuccessfully behind my elbow, scarfing down its prize. I tried to apologize to Kili, but he was laughing so hard I don't think he heard.  
_No stealing,_ I told the hatchling, pressing the concept into its mind. _You take what is given or hunt._  
I got back a sense of resignation but no remorse. Close enough.  
"So how are things with you people?" I asked, resuming my breakfast.  
"Unchanged," said Kili. "You left the place stirred up like a dropped hornet's nest, you know. There was quite a bit of shouting."  
"And drinking," Fili added helpfully.  
I sighed and rubbed my forehead. "Wonderful. I suppose I should talk to Thorin and Gandalf." What I really wanted to do was get some more sleep and spend time with my dragon, and then I realized that I hadn't contacted Alagaësia yet to tell them the good news. A hefty to-do list of awkward conversations. This was going to be a great day.  
The first thing I did was shut myself in a small, out-of-the-way room with the dragon on my shoulder and my Sending Stone in hand. I used my charcoal pencil from yesterday to write with.  
_It hatched._  
I waited for a good long while, ten minutes at least. When a response was not forthcoming, I decided that Eragon was either asleep, in a meeting, or otherwise unavailable. The hatchling looked at me curiously when I sighed, so I used pictures and feelings to describe the Sending Stone. I realized that as soon as the dragon was old enough, I would need to pretty much copy and paste all of my signifigant memories into its mind.  
The hatchling flared its wings when I stood, then launched itself off my shoulder and flapped around the room. It didn't seem quite sure of where to put its other limbs while in flight and kept hitting its own wings. I sent it a series of pictures of Saphira in flight and a touch of amusement.  
_Come, little one,_ I told it, not really caring if it didn't understand my meaning. _We've got a wizard and an angry dwarf to see._  
First, I scooped the hatchling up in my arms and finally found an answer to its gender: female, as I had suspected from the general feel of the hatchling's mind. I was pleased. _I need something to call you next. Just temporary, you can pick a name once you're older._  
I swirled the issue of a nickname around in my mind as I walked through the corridors, looking for Gandalf or Thorin. Sylvia was the first thing that popped into my mind, but it was silly so I pushed it away again. Who had ever heard of a dragon named Sylvia? How about _Lyren_? No, that would be a good name, but not a nickname. Nala? No, unoriginal. Sylvia? You again. Go away. You have been dismissed. Ithil? Middle Earth Elvish for "moon", wasn't it? That would also work well for a name, but later. Just Via, then? Okay, brain, you have officially... Actually, I kinda like it.  
I looked at the hatchling, now skittering along the polished floor behind me. Via seemed to fit reasonably well. No doubt she would want something more dramatic like Lyren when she grew up, but for now, it would work.  
"I temporarily dub thee 'Via'. May you live long and prosper or something."  
Via made a _wheep!_ noise and flapped her wings to gain altitude.

* * *

I followed an elf's directions to the library, where I found Thorin at a table with a map, alone. I wasn't sure if this was a blessing or a curse. He looked up as I walked closer, scowling at Via who was perched once more on my shoulder. "Why have you brought that thing with you?"

"And a cheerful 'good morning' to you too," I said. "Via is sentient; please stop referring to her as a thing."  
The scowl deepened. "If you've something to say, say it."  
"To cut to the quick and put it bluntly, are you planning on leaving me behind? I should like to know now so I may be ready to follow you at a moment's notice."  
Thorin took his hands away from the map, which immediately sprang into a tight roll. "I accepted you into the company, and in return you-"  
"Keep secrets, lie, and manipulate. That's what a Farseer does."  
"I meant the dragon egg. You have lied? About what?"  
"If I told you, it wouldn't be a very good lie, now would it? Ah, don't worry, it won't affect anything. And what was I supposed to say about the dragon egg? You know you would have had nothing to do with me at the word 'dragon'."  
Via growled faintly and leapt from my shoulder, flapped clumsily to an overflowing bookcase, and tried to land. She missed and knocked over a half dozen scrolls, then scrambled to the top of the case and attempted an innocent expression.  
I shook my head. "Via, darling, you're not helping." I stared for a moment at the scrolls on the floor, then raised my left hand. "Rïsa!"  
The scrolls remained stubbornly inanimate.  
I had expected nothing else. With a sigh, I gathered the papers in my arms and stuffed them onto their proper shelf. I needed to spend a few hours with a pebble in an empty room. "Where were we?"  
Thorin gazed up at the hatchling, his face unreadable. "For all our sakes, I cannot allow you or this creature to accompany us. Dragons are unpredictable and uncontrollable. And you..."  
I folded my arms. "What about me?"  
"I believe I trust you still, to a point. I would be glad to have you with us, but I cannot be sure that when we face the dragon..."  
I understood. "You think that because I'm a Rider I won't be able to kill a dragon. Is that all? Because I have no sympathy for any creature who kills for fun. Smaug isn't like the dragons I know; he's more akin to Shruikan. Besides, if everything goes according to the future I see, I won't have to even draw my glaive against him."  
Thorin watched Via (now stuck on the shelf, unsure how to get down) for a moment. "And you are sure you can control the...your dragon?"  
I nodded. "Via would never do anything horrific. On purpose. It'll be fine, and the advantages of having a second magic-user will more than make up for anything she does." This was going worlds better than I expected.  
Thorin didn't look very reassured. "You may come with us when we leave, but if the dragon causes trouble, you'll be walking back to Rivendell."  
It was all I could do to keep from throwing my hands up and shouting "HALLELUJAH!". Of course I meant to follow them regardless of whether or not I was invited, but it would be so much easier this way.  
Instead, I bowed because it seemed like it was the proper response and said, "Thank you. I should go now."  
I sent out an image to Via and a questioning feeling. She chirped in agreement and fluttered down onto my outstretched arm. As I stepped across the threshold of the library, a voice said, "That seemed to go well."  
I didn't bother looking. "Must you always- No, I'm not even surprised anymore. Go ahead, stalk me. Just don't sneak up on me like that.  
Kili stepped into my line of sight. "I _was_ returning this book," he said, offering me a leather-bound volume as evidence. "I heard Thorin's raised voice and stopped to listen."  
"You just wait until I learn to ward rooms. Then you'll never get any news."  
Via launched herself from my arm and circled Kili's head, piping a handful of notes.  
"She wants more bacon," I translated. "Don't go teaching her bad habits, now."  
"It's a girl?" he asked, holding the book out like a shield as Via dove at him, chirping insistently.  
"Yes. Via, get over here! No snacks!"  
Reluctantly, she obeyed, although I swear she gave a tiny little sigh as she settled on my shoulder.

* * *

After my talk with Thorin, I figured I was due a break. I left my bag in my room, then walked down to the river, Via strolling behind me and staring at everything. I picked up a small rock and rolled it between my fingers. The pebble was tradition. As a new Rider, I would start by trying to levitate it.

I sat down on a broad rock on the bank and centered the stone on my gedwëy ignasia. I stared at it for a moment, then said, "Stenr rïsa."  
To my immense unsurprise, nothing happened.  
You had to reach for the magic. There was a trick to it.  
"Stenr rïsa!"  
Via watched with some interest. She opened a feeling of curiosity to me, so I showed her an image of the stone rising into the air above a glowing gedwëy ignasia. She seemed satisfied and went back to gazing intently at the inanimate pebble.  
I glared at the rock in my hand. Had to find my magic somewhere, _then_ say the words. I closed my eyes and searched my mind for something that resembled gramyre.  
A small bit of disturbance, an unknown blot on a blank page. I grabbed at it, seized hold of it, and pressured it until a barrier of smooth ice shattered and a new sort of energy boiled through my body. Unfamiliar, tingling, pulsing. Not unlike what I had felt when I first touched Via.  
"Stenr rïsa!"  
The pebble wobbled, then rose slowly into the air. I was directing an alarming amount of energy into keeping it there, so I threw my mind at the link and severed the magic, dropping the stone back into my palm.  
My blood still fizzed, but that might have been from excitement. "Via, I did it!" I shouted, scooping her up and laughing. "I did it! I can use maaaaaa-" I flailed my arms, nearly dropped poor Via, and tumbled backwards into the river.  
The hatchling shrieked in alarm as we hit the water, icy cold and all too shallow. My head struck a rock and I scraped myself in a dozen places. I thrashed around for a moment, then one hand found the bottom and I pushed myself up again, spitting river water and holding the dragonling above the surface with my free arm.  
I clambered ashore, wet and shivering, hugging a bedraggled Via to my chest.  
_I can use magic!_  
And then I was laughing again, running back up towards the Last Homely House.  
As I raced through the front doors, I passed Bilbo who couldn't help but stare at me. I stopped and smiled. "I can use magic!"  
"You're...dripping."  
"I know! This is amazing." I stroked Via and continued back to my rooms. I toweled off the hatchling and changed into dry clothing, then sat for a time on the bed, holding the dragon in my lap and talking quietly to her.  
I tried to match what I was saying out loud to feelings and images I sent out to her, giving her the meaning of each word. It was exhausting and slow going, but I managed to give her a reasonable account of how I fell into Alagaësia. I could have given her the memory instead, but this way she learned new words. Hopefully.  
At supper that night, I sat with my friends among the Company and levitated small objects when no one was looking. Via stayed by me for the first half of the meal, intimidated, I think, by all the noise and people. By the time the main course was being finished, though, she was darting on, over, and under the table, boldly approaching anyone she cared to. She would rub against people's hands in an attempt to get petted, reminding me once again of a silver cat.  
I kept an eye on her, but for the most part the dwarves ignored her or watched her carefully and the elves present exclaimed over her and gave her tidbits to eat. I only had to remind the hatchling of the _no stealing_ rule once.  
I told Fili, Kili, and Bilbo of my time by and in the river.  
"I thought it was a joke when you talked about magic and immortality," Kili said. "Is it really true?"  
I reached for my magic. I was getting better at it. "Rïsa," I told a spoon. It rose smoothly into the air by a foot, then I lost control of the spell and it clattered noisily on the table.  
"That's unnerving," said Fili, staring at the fallen utensil. "Can you do it with larger objects?"  
"Not yet," I admitted. "But some day I'll be able to heal and conjure fire and the like. Oh, this is going to be interesting."  
"And you have a dragon," Bilbo sighed.  
"And I suck at archery," I told him. "Can't hit a tree from twenty feet away."  
I got a sudden surge of emotion from Via and my eyes widened. "Don't give her alcohol!" I shouted down the table. "She'll be hiccuping sparks all night!"

* * *

_It hatched._  
**_The egg?! When? Is everything okay?_**  
**_What happened? Hello?_**  
_Eragon, you still here?_  
**_Yes! Is everything okay?_**  
_You already asked. Yeah, it's fine. It took a while to get everything sorted out, but I'm a Rider now._  
**_Have you picked a name? Did the dwarves give you a hard time?_**  
_I decided to wait on an official name until she's old enough to pick one herself. She's Via for now, short for Sylvia or something. And the dwarves...came around._  
**_Good. How's she doing?_**  
_Well. She's so beautiful...I wish you could see her._  
**_You could make a fairth on this tablet._**  
_Would that work? And can it be undone?_  
**_Yes and yes? I'll ask Arya._**  
_Also, I just cast my first spell ever today, so I'm not sure I'm up to that sort of thing yet. I stillWAIT ARYA IS THERE?!_  
**_No! I meant I'll ask her tomorrow morning when we have our scrying conference._**  
_Awww you Skype with her every da_y_? That's so sweeeeeet. And why aren't you asking Oromis again?_  
**_Oromis and Glaedr are with the dwarven egg in Tronjheim. I could ask Brom or Blödhgarm, though._**  
_No, ask Arya! And then send her the sparrow poem!_  
**_Syri..._**  
_Okay, sorry (sorta). Anyways, gotta go, Via set fire to the rug again._  
**_She's breathing fire already?_**  
_No, those idiot elves gave her wine this evening and...well, you saw how Thorn was._  
**_Ah. Goodbye, Syri._**  
_Night Eragon._

* * *

**_Chapter eight! I completely lost track of when this was supposed to be posted!_**

**_Mostly, this is still just people standing around talking. The hatchling has been temporarily named Via (pronounced VEE-uh, not VIE-uh!) for reasons unknown to this author. See the piece about my writing process in Ice and Rip. I hope to get the ball rolling again in the next chapter, but we'll see. I'm going to have a problem with the hatchling's size and maturity...Saphira was like a month old before she could talk (although in this case, Syri will be actively trying to teach the dragon words, so we may shorten that up a bit). Also, she wasn't ridable for...a month and a half? Something like that. Eesh._**

**_Review Replies:_**

**_Blackranger96- Thank you! I hope this chapter satisfies :)_**


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